


Backstory

by bondlikejames96



Series: Posey Shepard [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins, Mass Effect
Genre: F/M, I don't think it's necessarily a prompt, Is it a prompt?, OC-tober, Tumblr OC-tober, tumblr stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-07
Updated: 2015-11-03
Packaged: 2018-04-25 06:29:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 28
Words: 24,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4950184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bondlikejames96/pseuds/bondlikejames96
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In honor of Tumblr's OC-tober festivities, I've been doing bios and quick background pieces on each of my 7 main Bioware OC's. Mostly just harmless background information, some romance to come (definitely some angst). Posting it here from my tumblrl account just to keep it all better organized, I guess! (Chapter order will update with every new posting, as I haven't finished all of these yet. Obviously.</p><p>Pieces for each character will include a short bio/backstory, a moment from their childhood or formative years, a drabble about their romance, and then an update on where they are after the events of their game/series. Hope you all enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Posey Shepard: Introductions

**Author's Note:**

> Here's the order of how these will be posted here, most likely:
> 
> Posey Shepard: Chapters 1 - 4  
> Wren Cousland: 5 - 8  
> Oriana Mahariel: 9 - 12  
> Anya Grace Hawke: 13 - 16  
> Dawn Hawke: 17 - 20  
> Celeste Trevelyan: 21 - 24  
> Velwynne Lavellan: 25 - 28
> 
> I'll post this at the beginning of each chapter for easy reference, and the OC's name will be listed in their relevant chapters as well!

**Posey Grace Shepard**

Born on Mindoir to parents Robert and Eliza Shepard, along with her younger sister Poppy Claire. The loss of her family in a batarian slaver attack cracked the soft shell of her childhood, and her first few years in the Alliance military saw a great deal of punishment for sassing her superiors and questioning the rules. As a highly talented biotic and gifted sniper, she excelled in combat training scenarios. However, her temper  held her back, delaying the promotions she had more than earned. She grew more and more fiery until a team mission on Akuze went horribly wrong - at the time, it was thought that a decision she had participated in was a major fact in the failure of the mission. (This was later rectified upon the discovery of some of Cerberus's early activities.) Upon realizing that her actions had (supposedly) caused the deaths of so many, Posey pulled in the reins on her temper and learned how to lead by example, rather than force. Her sarcasm remained though, all the way through her N7 training and subsequent Spectre Induction. She's quick-witted and sharp-tongued, slow to trust but quick to offer help to those in need. During the war, she fell hard for one Garrus Vakarian, continuing their relationship through the end of the war.

Her decisions along the timeline of the Reaper War attribute to her belief of doing what's best for the greatest amount of people. Saving the Council from Saren, curing the genophage, and reconciling the Geth and the Quarians were decisions that she did not take lightly, but that she felt had to be made in what little time she had.

Any questions that you may have about Posey's background, personality, quirks, or even minor details are more than welcome (and most appreciated)!!


	2. Posey Shepard: Childhood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Posey's mother, Eliza, teaches her and Poppy how to play the piano.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the order of how these will be posted here, most likely:
> 
> Posey Shepard: Chapters 1 - 4  
> Wren Cousland: 5 - 8  
> Oriana Mahariel: 9 - 12  
> Anya Grace Hawke: 13 - 16  
> Dawn Hawke: 17 - 20  
> Celeste Trevelyan: 21 - 24  
> Velwynne Lavellan: 25 - 28
> 
> I'll post this at the beginning of each chapter for easy reference, and the OC's name will be listed in their relevant chapters as well!

_A moment from Posey Shepard’s childhood..._

A gentle melody drifted through the living room, distracting Posey from the vid she'd been watching. She tried harder to focus on the screen, but the song was too pretty to ignore. She used the arm of the couch to push herself up to stand, and followed the music towards the back of the house. The sound of smaller feet pattered behind her, indicating that Poppy was following close behind. As she usually did.

When they peeked around the doorframe of their old playroom, they were greeted with the familiar sight of their mother, Eliza, back turned to them, her fingers gliding effortlessly over the keys in a well-practiced pattern. Her golden curls bounced just slightly as she played, her upper body swaying in time to the slow, lyrical melody. Without even turning, she spoke to Posey and Poppy.

"Come here, girls."

Both of them scrambled forward to stand beside their mother, watching in wonder as her fingers moved deftly, never missing a note. After a few moments more of playing, she turned and picked Poppy up under her shoulders and scooted her onto the piano bench beside her. When the little one was settled, she looked to Posey and gently patted the bench on her other side. Posey slid down onto the seat, curling into her mother's side and letting her hand creep forward to touch one of the old ivory keys. A smile lit up Eliza's face as she covered Posey's hand with her own, doing the same to Poppy.

"Do you want to learn how to play something?" Eliza asked quietly, looking back and forth between the two girls on either side of her. Poppy nodded ecstatically, while Posey just snuggled up closer against her mother as an affirmation. Then, very slowly, her mother began to press her fingers down against Posey's, one by one, so that Posey's fingers were creating a simple new melody. After a few moments of this, her other hand began the same ritual with Poppy, bringing out a lower harmony to what Posey was playing. She taught them a few measures at a time, stopping to repeat them until the girls could play it by themselves. They sat there for longer than any of them knew, only pausing when their father came through the door after a long day at work. When  he had set down his coat and construction tools, Eliza stood up from the piano bench and met him in the kitchen. She gave him a quick kiss, a tender smile, and put her arm through his as she led him back towards the piano where the girls still sat patiently.

"I've been teaching the girls to play today, Robert. Would you like to hear what they've learned?"

"Can we play for you, Papa?" Posey said quietly, her little lavender eyes shining up hopefully at her father. He put a hand to his dark crimson beard, appeared to be in deep thought for a moment, and then nodded briskly.

"Go for it, Posey."

She turned to look at Poppy, who took the cue to carefully count off four beats before they began playing together. It came much easier to Poppy, having always been more musically gifted, but Posey managed to make it through without too many mistakes. When they finished, both girls turned around to look at their parents, who were grinning broadly. Robert had his arm around Eliza and his cheek pressed against the top of her head, looking down with affection at his two daughters.

"That was absolutely beautiful," he said with the utmost honesty in his deep, rich voice. He broke from his embrace with Eliza and walked over to kneel behind the piano bench. "You are both so talented. Come here, give Papa a hug."

Posey and Poppy promptly threw themselves at their father, knocking him backwards in the process. The girls went down with him, having wrapped their arms around his neck, and they all ended up in a giggling pile on the floor. As Posey righted herself, sitting up to stare down into her father's face, Robert gave a soft smile and ran a hand over her little head, grunting when Poppy flopped down over his stomach. His other hand patted her back gently, more to keep her from jumping around on him than anything.

"My little flowers," he murmured as his thumb brushed against Posey's cheek. "I love you both, so much."

Posey leaned into his hand, a little smile gracing her lips. "You too, Papa. Love you too."


	3. Posey Shepard: Romance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's the order of how these will be posted here, most likely:
> 
> Posey Shepard: Chapters 1 - 4  
> Wren Cousland: 5 - 8  
> Oriana Mahariel: 9 - 12  
> Anya Grace Hawke: 13 - 16  
> Dawn Hawke: 17 - 20  
> Celeste Trevelyan: 21 - 24  
> Velwynne Lavellan: 25 - 28
> 
> I'll post this at the beginning of each chapter for easy reference, and the OC's name will be listed in their relevant chapters as well!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of you may recognize this as an excerpt from Guest List!!

“Primarch Vakarian, Councilor Shepard is here to see you.”

Garrus’s eyes opened swiftly, and he sat up in his chair. “Send her in, please. Thanks, Sarel.”

The voice on the other end of the comms was world weary, but ungrudging in the way the receptionist said, “No problem.” As he waited for Posey to come into the office, Garrus took a few moments to straighten his uniform and throw the stacks of paper on his desk into the empty drawer he reserved for when Posey came by. She hated how disorganized his office usually was, and the first few times she’d visited him here she’d spent hours afterwards reorganizing and refiling all of the mundane papers he received on a daily basis. Their time together was a little more limited now that they were both high-powered galactic leaders. And filing was certainly not how Garrus wanted to spend that time with her.

He had just slammed the drawer shut when the door to his office flew open, and Garrus looked up with a broad grin. Posey’s face was drawn and tired, but she still wore that sparkling smile that was always saved specifically for him.

“Hey big guy,” she said with a hint of a purr. “Whatcha up to?”

“Trying to get some work done,” Garrus chuckled, even as he powered off his desk computer and slid his chair out. Shepard threw a thick bundle of datapads onto his desk, not even caring that they scattered across the surface as she slithered into his lap. His hands went to her waist, thumbs brushing the bottom of her ribcage. Her face was suddenly inches from his, close enough to count every tiny freckle if he hadn’t done it a thousand times already as she slept.

The soft little chuckle she gave spurred him onwards, pressing his forehead to hers for just a moment before darting his tongue out to brush across her lips. She moved in even closer, shivering the slightest bit when his talons went to work on the closures of her jacket. It was gone without a second thought, leaving only the rich blue dress that served as the other part of her uniform. Both of them knew better than to take off too much of their clothing here, but the temptation was still there as Garrus’s talon tips danced along the zipper that ran down Shepard’s spine. His other hand was still pressed firmly against the dip of her waist, and with a tickling twitch of a finger she jumped up out of his lap, squealing indignantly. She leaned against the desk as her crimson brows arced low over lilac eyes, trying for all the world to look angry. But there was not an upset bone in her body just then, and Garrus knew it. He stood up, slowly drawing his gaze over her soft figure, and leaned in towards her, pushing her against the desk until she was fully seated on top of it. The little sounds of enjoyment she made against his mouth plates gave him all the permission he needed to lean her backwards, until her shoulder blades were resting against the datapads she’d thrown down earlier.

Her nimble fingers finally moved to the dress jacket of his uniform, fiddling with the ridiculous numbers of clasps and buckles in a desperate attempt to get somehow closer to him. Somehow, Garrus’s better judgment prevailed and he let a little more of his weight settle on top of her, pinning her arms between their chests. A white-hot spark of desire flashed in her eyes, but she relented and her hands returned to the back of his head, massaging his fringe as he kissed his way down her strong jawline and into the hollow at the base of her ear. It was taking all of his strength to keep his hips from reacting the way they wanted to, but he knew as well as she did that this was definitely not the place for that sort of behavior. No matter how far they might have been pushing the boundaries on what was technically acceptable – even for a Primarch and a Councilor - just then.

“Chief Primarch, there’s an urgent message for you and Councilor – Oh!” A thin, squeaking voice came from the doorway, and Garrus’s head snapped up from where he had been lavishing kisses all across the pale column of Shepard’s neck, tracing with his tongue the map of scars that he had memorized by now. It took an enormous amount of willpower to bite back the frustrated growl that bubbled up in his throat, but the salarian looked terrified enough as it was. Her small, ivy-green face, with cognac eyes the size of Palaven right about now, stared at the floor, the ceiling, the wall, anywhere but the two intertwined and panting galactic leaders on the desk in front of her. This was someone new, an assistant that Garrus only vaguely recognized. Then he recalled exactly who she was.

The intern. She’d only been here for a few days now, shadowing various politicians around the embassies, and Garrus had completely forgotten that she had been assigned to observe a holoconference that he had scheduled for later this afternoon. Before that, he was supposed to meet with her to give a brief overview of his duties and explain some of the more intricate workings of the Hierarchy. Yet another thing he had completely lost track of as soon as Shepard’s hips had swayed so temptingly into view. 

“Oh, oh my goodness,” the young salarian stuttered, “I’m s-so sorry, Primarch V-v-Vakarian. I’ll, uh, I’ll come back later or... Or something, I don’t know, umm. I mean, this is kind of urgent, sir, so I really can’t come back later, but I see that you two were obviously in the, uh... in the middle of something, so –“

It was still incredibly strange for Posey to hear people referring to Garrus as a Primarch. Back when the war raged on, they’d joked back and forth about where Garrus actually stood by way of military rankings. He’d always brushed the questions away with humor or a quick subject change, but she’d seen the way that Generals and even Admirals of the various Hierarchy branches all paid him deference in their encounters.

When he returned with the Normandy seven years after the destruction of the Reapers, everyone was busy being absolutely dumbfounded that they were alive, so the question of his status fell to the wayside.

Until a couple of months ago, that is, when Dianna Allers had broken the news to the galaxy that Garrus Vakarian and Commander-turned-Councilor Posey Shepard were planning to wed. According to those who advised the Councilors, it simply wouldn’t do for a Councilor to marry a ‘commoner’. So Primarch Victus had made it a personal mission of his to reinstate Garrus, and to then raise him even higher than whatever he’d been.

Apparently that warranted appointing Garrus to the level of Chief Primarch of the Turian Hierarchy.

Posey hadn’t even realized that there was more than one Primarch, much less a whole council of them. A leader for each turian-controlled planet, and each and every one of them now reported to Garrus. During the war, there had been such an astounding number of deaths and disappearances that the entire Hierarchy had been thrown into disarray. After the war was over, as more and more mass relays were reconstructed, the various military and political organizations of each and every species was left to determine who would take the place of the many that had fallen. At that time, Councilor Sparatus had been the foremost choice for Chief Primarch, but he had vehemently refused to take on such a task in his old age. So Victus had come forward and taken over, and for his six-year run he hadn’t done a half-bad job. But upon Garrus’s return, Victus had been rather eager to step down and defer judgment to the younger turian. It still didn’t quite make sense to Posey, but then again turians had always been somewhat confusing in their structure.

Now Garrus had work all the time, never lacking for something to do. Once a month, he had to host a conference with every Primarch in attendance, be it physically or by hologram, as well as Councilor Sparatus and the heads of the Cabal and the Blackwatch. The meetings could run anywhere from three to nine hours, depending on any number of circumstances that affected their economy and species as a whole. Those days, Posey always had his favorite dinner ready at seven, just in case the conference happened to wrap up in decent time. But more often than not, he wouldn’t stumble in through the door until one or two in the morning, completely exhausted and cursing the names of various Primarchs.

He tired so much more easily these days, after the intensive treatments for Corpalis over the last eight months. According to Dr. Belen, the results had been overall extremely positive, but Garrus was never going to have the boundless energy of before.

That’s why Posey took what time she could out of her own workdays to make little visits like these, though usually they weren’t interrupted. Sarel was very good about holding all of Garrus’s calls or visitors any time Shepard popped in, and would never even knock on the door unless something dire had occurred.

The intern, however, had apparently not gotten the memo. Flustered beyond words, and perhaps even a little embarrassed at being caught undressing his human bondmate in his office during work hours, Garrus reached out a hand with as much patience as he could muster. The girl placed the datapad she held into his waiting grasp and then took a couple of steps backwards. Her foot caught on the corner of the door as she tried to leave, and the glass of neon-blue soda she’d been carrying was suddenly splattered all over the white of her jumpsuit.

She just stood there, mouth open in absolute mortification, ocean-blue stains creeping across her uniform like a spider’s web. Shepard thought to herself that she’d never seen a salarian look so utterly shocked. And that was saying something, considering the amount of time that she’d spent with Mordin, on the Collector mission where scientifically impossible things seemed to throw themselves at their team with every step.

Garrus’s face was suddenly somber when he looked up at the young salarian, nodding tersely. “You’re excused. Thank you for delivering this.” The girl couldn’t get out fast enough, but made sure to watch her steps as she rounded the corner and disappeared. Shepard turned to him, her hand brushing against his arm.

“What’s wrong, Garrus? What is it?”

“It’s for you, actually,” he said softly, brow plates furrowing. “I... You just have to look at it.”

A chill raced across Shepard’s skin, unease pooling in her belly as she took the datapad from his hand. The message was already pulled up, with a subject line simply reading,  **‘I should’ve sent this sooner.’**

 

_Posey,_

_This will seem strange to you. Okay, maybe strange isn’t the right word – more like crazy, or stupid. Impossible. Something like that. But this is something that I’ve ~~wanted~~  needed to say for a long time. A really long time. I’m not sure it’s something you’ll want to hear, or if you’ll even believe it, but I’ll say it here anyways. You can do with this information what you wish._

_On Mindoir, you fought for me. You protected me with everything you had, and you only left when you had no other choice. You thought I was a goner, and you ran to save yourself. I don’t resent you for that, please understand this now. Nothing I’ve been through is your fault, Posey. And I’m not going to go into what happened here, without seeing you face to face. If that’s what you want._

_I survived. There are scars, physical and mental, but I made it through a lot of trouble, and I’m safe now. I’m on Mindoir again, I opened up an orphanage when I came back here. I didn’t even realize you were alive until the news stations were blowing up about you getting engaged._

_Which we can talk about when (if) you come to visit. A turian, Posey? What the hell?_

_Anyways, I hope this gets to you. The comms signals here on Mindoir have just recently gone back up, and they’re still working on making them consistent. So, if you do get this... I hope you come visit. Or at least respond to this message, so that I know you’re really okay. Plus, there’s some people I want you to meet._

_I hope I get to hear from you soon. I miss you, so much more than you know._

_All my love,_

_PCS_

 

The datapad fell from Shepard’s grasp, clattering on the floor. Garrus’s hands were instantly on her arms, supporting her in case she were to crumple in shock. His icy gaze searched hers for answers, concern etched in his handsome features as he brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Posey, who was that from?”

Her fingers shook as she gestured limply at the datapad on the floor. It took a few breaths to summon enough air into her lungs to speak, but when she did her voice was choked and breathless with excitement. “Poppy. Poppy Claire Shepard.”

Comprehension broke like the dawn over Garrus’s face, reflecting the swell of Shepard’s heart in her chest.

“Garrus, that’s a message from my sister.”


	4. Posey Shepard: Years Later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's the order of how these will be posted here, most likely:
> 
> Posey Shepard: Chapters 1 - 4  
> Wren Cousland: 5 - 8  
> Oriana Mahariel: 9 - 12  
> Anya Grace Hawke: 13 - 16  
> Dawn Hawke: 17 - 20  
> Celeste Trevelyan: 21 - 24  
> Velwynne Lavellan: 25 - 28
> 
> I'll post this at the beginning of each chapter for easy reference, and the OC's name will be listed in their relevant chapters as well!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is very, very short, sorry!! I just feel like she's got so much other work going for her already. 
> 
> Takes place immediately after Guest List. :-)

Garrus knew it was coming. He groaned as he heard the telltale pants that heralded the morning ritual of the Vakarian home. He heard the thumping of footsteps up the stairs, felt the mattress creak as Posey stirred beside him to prepare herself, even steeled himself for the impact, but he still could never quite be ready for the full weight that barreled into him every morning.

Within seconds, the bedroom door slid open and there were three varren pups leaping onto the bed, snuffling and nuzzling and rolling all over Garrus and Posey. Garrus couldn't help but laugh as the smallest one, so aptly named Sparky for his tendency to set off biotics when excited, burrowed into Posey's pillow and licked at her face, earning a squeal from Posey as she sat bolt upright in the bed. The pups were all on her in an instant, licking and nipping playfully as she laughed and tried in vain to push them away.

"Good morning, babies!" she giggled cheerfully, tilting her head as far away from their tongues as she could manage. When Garrus let out an accidental purr at the revealing of her throat, the varren turned their attention towards him and pounced. The force with which they barreled into him knocked him clear off the bed, his good leg tangling in the sheets as he went down yelling. That had Posey laughing hysterically, wiping tears from her cheeks as Garrus grunted from the floor. She crawled over to his side of the bed, freeing his legs from the sheets. As he laid there, covered in black and brown and dishwater-grey fur, he grumbled and tried to cover his face with his hands. After watching him struggle for a few more moments, Posey placed her feet on the floor beside him and walked to the door.

"Sparky! Pepper! Kava! Breakfast!" Garrus heaved a sigh of relief as the paws disappeared from all over him, the pups racing off downstairs to wait for Posey to bring them some food. She watched him grab his prosthetic leg and slide the latches into place, and she waited until he slowly stood up and walked to her side. They walked down the stairs together, his arm tight around her waist as they went down to feed the puppies and start their day.


	5. Wren Cousland: Introductions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the order of how these will be posted here, most likely:
> 
> Posey Shepard: Chapters 1 - 4  
> Wren Cousland: 5 - 8  
> Oriana Mahariel: 9 - 12  
> Anya Grace Hawke: 13 - 16  
> Dawn Hawke: 17 - 20  
> Celeste Trevelyan: 21 - 24  
> Velwynne Lavellan: 25 - 28
> 
> I'll post this at the beginning of each chapter for easy reference, and the OC's name will be listed in their relevant chapters as well!

**Wren Avalon Cousland**

The only daughter and youngest child of Bann Bryce Cousland and his wife Eleanor of Highever, Wren was a fiery, hot-headed child from the very start. Always challenging the rules, pushing the limits, and taking advantage of the fact that her father was always wrapped around her little finger. She was taught the rules of swordplay from a young age, working tirelessly until she could master even her Fergus, her elder brother, in combat. For her 13th birthday, her parents gifted her with a finely-bred Mabari pup, which she promptly named Captain to reflect her dreams of military life. As a daughter of Highever, though, she was not intended to have any life other than being married off, having children, and settling down for a life without adventure. When the offer came to join the Wardens shortly before she turned 21, even after it had cost her the lives of her parents, she readily accepted.

In the beginning, the Blight was not her main priority. Not having seen the worst effects of it yet, she solidified a plan to take her revenge on the Howe family, mapping out who she would need to convince all throughout the long ride with Duncan from Highever to Ostagar. After the events that transpired there, however, she realized that her vengeance needed to take a backseat.

It was Alistair who began to soften her towards the needs of the Fereldan people. At the beginning, she was so goal-oriented and focused that she often brushed past people who truly needed help in smaller ways. When Alistair forced her to slow down, to take in the things and people around her, she began to grow and change as a person. She still had plenty of fire left in her, though, as even Alistair couldn't talk her down from taking the life of Arl Howe when she finally had the chance. She did so with fervor, and more than a little pleasure as she watched the life fade from his eyes.

When the idea of being married to Alistair was first proposed, she balked at the idea of spending the rest of her days cooped up somewhere. She slowly warmed to the idea, but grew much more uncomfortable with it when he was brought forth as the next king by the Landsmeet. The implications of remaining attached to Alistair, leaving her either as a mistress in secret or the mother of Maker-knows-how-many royal children. However, when Alistair insinuated that it would be nigh-impossible for one Grey Warden to have a child, much less two together, she relented and stepped forth as the Princess-Consort, to reign at Alistair's side when the Archdemon had been defeated and Ferelden saved.


	6. Wren Cousland: Childhood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wren spars with her big brother, Fergus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the order of how these will be posted here, most likely:
> 
> Posey Shepard: Chapters 1 - 4  
> Wren Cousland: 5 - 8  
> Oriana Mahariel: 9 - 12  
> Anya Grace Hawke: 13 - 16  
> Dawn Hawke: 17 - 20  
> Celeste Trevelyan: 21 - 24  
> Velwynne Lavellan: 25 - 28
> 
> I'll post this at the beginning of each chapter for easy reference, and the OC's name will be listed in their relevant chapters as well!

_A moment from Wren Cousland’s childhood..._

Her hands were blistered from sparring, but Wren pushed the pain aside as she stared down her opponent. He was only a little bit taller than her, but much more muscular. Thing is, she was quick, and she knew it. As her elder brother lifted his sword and swung it towards her, she ducked and brought her own sword up to meet his, the sound of clattering wood echoing throughout the courtyard of the Cousland estate.

Fergus's brow furrowed in concentration as he twisted away from her next strike, the wooden point of Wren's sword just barely missing his shoulder.

"You'll have to be quicker than that!" His words only made her more frustrated over having missed - she rarely missed these days, and Fergus knew it. Their sparring sessions were quickly becoming an equal match, and every day Fergus had to move just a bit faster, swing just a bit harder to match the strength and skill of his little sister. This infuriated him.

Just as Wren put all of her weight behind a blow that she was sure would land right in Fergus's ribcage, she felt a dull blow behind her knee. Suddenly she was falling, her hands too occupied with protecting her sword to ease her impact. She lay face down in the dirt for a moment, stunned and breathless.

"Maker's breath, Wren! I'm so sorry!" Fergus was immediately beside her, swearing to himself, rolling her over gently and looking at her knees with wide, terrified eyes. "I didn't mean to hit that hard, I swear," he murmured desperately, staring at the blood on her trousers from where her knees had ground into the rough gravel of the courtyard path.

Wren just shook her head and sat up slowly, taking in a slow breath to clear her mind. It hurt, sure, but she'd had worse injuries. Like the time she'd fallen off of her horse, or when she'd climbed the tallest tree on their estate on a dare from Fergus and fallen spectacularly when a limb snapped beneath her. "I'm okay, Gus," she said quietly, giving him a little smile. He returned the grin and stood up, extending his hand out towards her. She took it and hauled herself to her feet, before bending down to pick up her sword and dust off the dirt from the hilt. Her blisters once again screamed in protest as she regripped the handle of the sword, squaring up towards Fergus. Confused, he reached for his own practice weapon and readied himself, eyeing Wren warily. Her smile twisted into a smirk as she charged, barreling into Fergus before he even had time to think. Grunting from the impact, he just managed to stay on his feet and bring his shield up to meet her next blow. She was relentless now, hammering away against his defenses while he barely kept up with her.

Finally, just as he brought up his sword to aim a strike at her momentarily vulnerable position, her weapon appeared out of nowhere and slammed into his shoulder, hard enough that he promptly collapsed onto the ground in a daze. She stood over him, grinning like an imp, while he recovered. He couldn't help but laugh along with her once he'd managed to right himself, and the two silently decided that that seemed a sufficient end to the day's practices. They scurried off to beg the cook for more sweets, followed closely by Fergus's pet mabari, Dragon.

From the window of his bedroom, Bryce Cousland watched his children spar in the courtyard below. His heart swelled with pride as Wren dodged and dived and drove into Fergus. He even laughed out loud when his son, whom he loved so very much, fell at the hands of his sister, six years his junior. He'd always known that Wren was special, from the very start. Seeing her best her elder brother in combat brought more pride and joy and amusement to his heart than he'd thought possible when she was born, when he'd been given a daughter instead of a second, strong son. Back then, he truly hadn't realized what a gift the Maker had blessed him with.

But now, he knew. He had every confidence that, one day, his quiet little Wren would be a woman who could change the world if she so wished. In just what way, he couldn't even begin to imagine.


	7. Wren Cousland: Romance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's the order of how these will be posted here, most likely:
> 
> Posey Shepard: Chapters 1 - 4  
> Wren Cousland: 5 - 8  
> Oriana Mahariel: 9 - 12  
> Anya Grace Hawke: 13 - 16  
> Dawn Hawke: 17 - 20  
> Celeste Trevelyan: 21 - 24  
> Velwynne Lavellan: 25 - 28
> 
> I'll post this at the beginning of each chapter for easy reference, and the OC's name will be listed in their relevant chapters as well!

_A romantic moment between Wren Cousland and Alistair Theirin..._

Alistair pressed his fingers against his temples, frowning. "And remind me why this is something I, not your own Bann or even a closer Arl, have to deal with?"

The King of Ferelden was not at all pleased with the way this meeting was turning out, but he had at least tried to conceal his disinterest as he wrote down some of the minor complaints of the noble standing in front of him. However, the man had been blathering on for half an hour now, and Alistair wanted nothing more than to snag something from the kitchen for dinner and then head up to his quarters for a lengthy bath.

"Your Highness," the noble said with a quiet groan, "the Arl of Southmere has already heard my supplications, and has said that he is not qualified to handle the issue."

An exasperated smirk worked its way across Alistair's lips. "Is anyone really... _qualified_ to handle this? Your nug kennel wasn't built up to standards, ser. The fact that they are overrunning your property now is hardly the fault of anyone else."

"But this could be the next big nug invasion! We hardly need another Battle of the Squealing Plains!"

A shocked gasp echoed through the throne room, nobles from every corner of the nation hiding horrified, gaping mouths behind their hands. Alistair couldn't help but snicker at the reaction. But he still wasn't budging for the noble. He raised his eyes to the attendant partially hidden behind the rotund form of the desperate noble. The young man caught his gaze, nodded briskly, and set his hand gently on the elbow of the noble, whose face flushed beet-red as he was escorted out of the throne room.

"We're done for the day," Alistair grumbled as he stood slowly, stretching his arms above his head. Just as he turned to head towards the kitchens, a slender, dark-haired elven girl came trotting up to him, her brows furrowed and mouth set in a concerned frown.

"My King," she gasped out, springing down to a knee. Alistair sighed and shook his head, putting a hand on the girl's shoulder and bringing her back up to face him. Her lower lip trembled just slightly, and her eyes wouldn't meet the king's.

"What?" Alistair said quietly, leading the girl toward one of the rooms off of the main chamber, where there weren't a hundred pairs of eyes staring her down. "What's the matter?"

"The queen, ser," she whimpered, "sh-she'd like to see you... Immediately, she said. She seems very upset. The healer was in there, I don't know what's happened but -"

"Excuse me," Alistair said quietly, trying his best to be gentle as he moved the elven girl to the side and raced to the quarters that he shared with Wren.

His lungs burned from the effort of the endless stairs, but his heart was racing more out of worry than exhaustion. When he reached the door, it was locked. He knocked gently, and pressed his ear against the door to listen for any movement inside.  His heart skipped a beat, maybe even two, when he heard the sound of glass shattering against one of the walls.

"Wren? Wren, are you all right in there?" The room within grew still again, but Alistair could hear padded footsteps across the floor towards him. He stepped back from the door, heard the lock turn, and then he was face to face with the Queen of Ferelden, his wife of nine years. And she was _irate_.

Her green-gold eyes were rimmed with red, tears tracked down her cheeks, her hands curled up into fists as she turned her back on him and stalked across the room to the balcony. Alistair quickly stepped in, shutting and locking the door behind him.

For a few moments, the only sound was the whisper of wind from the balcony and small sniffles as Wren tried to wipe the remnants of her tears from her face. Alistair stepped up close behind her, gently laying a hand on her waist. As soon as he did, she swatted his hand away, and Alistair couldn't help but gasp a little bit at the sting it left behind on his wrist.

"My love," he said quietly, keeping his hands to himself this time. She turned, slowly, not meeting his eyes. Her arms were folded around herself, her brows drawn in and angry. "Please. What's wrong?"

She bit her lip, and then her hand was reaching for his. When she dragged him to the bed and sat him down, Alistair began to grow even more worried. She seemed so tense, so upset - whatever this was, it couldn't be good. Had she heard her Calling? Already? They were still so young, she only 29 and Alistair himself only 30. But there had been cases of younger Wardens being Called early, and with the massive amount of exposure the two of them had had, Alistair supposed it was possible that it was her time.

But Maker, he hoped not. Anything but that.

"I'm pregnant."

The whole world seemed to come to a stop, and Alistair found that he absolutely couldn't breathe.

"You... You what?"

"Pregnant, Alistair. I'm pregnant." There was no joy in her face, and a razor's edge to her voice.. Alistair wanted to fall to his knees, kiss her belly and whisper a world's worth of adoration to the child growing there, but her barely-suppressed rage was what needed to be addressed first and foremost.

"Wren," he whispered, standing up and cupping her cheeks between his large, calloused hands. "Why are you so angry?"

Her fingers wrapped around his wrists, but she made no move to pull his hands away from her face. "We talked about this, Alistair," she said softly, closing her eyes. "Before we were married."

"We talked about there being a slim-to-none chance of us being able to have children," he replied, brushing a thumb against her tear-stained cheek. "But I still don't understand what's got you so upset. Is it... Is this a... female thing? Do you all get cranky immediately when you get pregnant?"

That earned him a gentle, half-hearted smack on his ribcage, and he had to at least chuckle at the spirit she still maintained. But her face quickly fell back into a frown, and her eyes grew serious again.

"I was... Maker, I don't know how to tell you this." She ran a hand through her thick, black hair, tousling it as she heaved a sigh. "I was _okay_ with us not having children. The truth is, love, I... I never wanted children. The idea of carrying a child, being so responsible for the life of something so fragile... Maker, it's _terrifying_. I'm not cut out to be a mother, Alistair. I'll be horrible at it."

Alistair couldn't bear to look her in the eyes as he murmured, gently, cringing even as he said it, "Do you... I mean, there's ways to -"

She stopped him with a hand over his mouth. "Don't even go there, Alistair. That's absolutely not an option for me. We're in this, and we're going to see it through. Even if I'm a horrible parent."

She didn't expect to hear him chuckling softly as he pressed a kiss to her forehead, her nose, her eyelids.

"Wren, oh my goodness. I'm just as terrified as you are, I promise. No one is ever really cut out to be a parent, you know?" He waited until she opened her eyes and met his gaze, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips before he continued. "You are going to make a wonderful mother."

That made the corners of her summery eyes crinkle up as she smirked.

"You'll make a much better father."

"I certainly hope to be a good father," he said quietly, finally taking the opportunity to kneel down before her, his hands falling to her well-toned torso. "This child will want for nothing." Wren's slender fingers tangled into his strawberry-blonde hair as he laid his forehead against her stomach, his thumbs brushing against her waist. He spoke to her belly now, grinning against the silken fabric of her tunic, "I am going to love you so much, little one. Maker, you are going to be the most cared-for child in the world. I will make certain of that. I promise. This... this is your father, by the way. I can't wait to meet you."

"Maker's breath," Wren muttered above him, affection tinting her voice. "He's not even born yet and you've already begun spoiling him."

"He?" Alistair's eyes sparkled beneath his thick lashes as he looked up at his wife. She shrugged and twirled a curl of his hair around her finger, murmuring more to herself than to him.

"I'd like to think of you and your son - our son - play fighting, chasing each other around the palace..." She grinned even wider at her next thought. "Maker, the two of you will cause such chaos."

Alistair pressed one more kiss to her stomach and then stood up, pulling Wren into his arms. With a slow smirk, he leaned in for a long, warm kiss. "Chaos, indeed," he chuckled against her lips. "Chaos, indeed."


	8. Wren Cousland: Years Later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's the order of how these will be posted here, most likely:
> 
> Posey Shepard: Chapters 1 - 4  
> Wren Cousland: 5 - 8  
> Oriana Mahariel: 9 - 12  
> Anya Grace Hawke: 13 - 16  
> Dawn Hawke: 17 - 20  
> Celeste Trevelyan: 21 - 24  
> Velwynne Lavellan: 25 - 28
> 
> I'll post this at the beginning of each chapter for easy reference, and the OC's name will be listed in their relevant chapters as well!

Without even opening the door to her bedroom, Wren knew exactly what was going on inside. From the soft murmur of voices, the hushed whispers and giggles, she knew that Alistair was curled up in the middle of the bed, pillows propped behind him, and that the twins would be snuggled up at his sides, Wynne on his left and Bryce on his right.

Alistair's voice was low and warm as he read from one of the children's favorite books, _The Tale of the Champion._ They were waiting until the twins were older to explain that the events of said book were not entirely fiction, but for now the children loved to listen to their father read from the more child-appropriate chapters. Wren knew, by heart, that he was close to the end of tonight's tale, a valiant tale of Hawke saving the city from Qunari. Alistair heavily edited as he read, skipping over the graphically violent details and only leaving the parts about the bravery of Dawn Hawke, and how she'd risen to take the title of Champion of Kirkwall.

Wren and Alistair had also decided not to tell the children of the downfall of the Champion, and the horrific events of the Inquisition. Those were stories for later, when the twins would be able to understand how complex the world was.

When the she pushed open the door, she found that she had been spot-on in her predictions.  Bryce was tucked in tight under Alistair's arm, his little mouth parted as he snored quietly. Wynne was still bright-eyed and awake, hanging on to her father's every word even as she clung to his arm tightly. Her golden curls hung down in her face, and she'd huff them away every few moments so that she could see the pictures of the book. She seemed to smile wider every time Alistair turned a page, and her lower lip pouted just a little when he closed the book and tossed it to the end of the bed. It was only then that they realized that Wren had been standing there, leaning against the doorway and watching them intently, and Alistair blushed sheepishly as he shrugged.

"It was storytime," he said quietly, glancing down at Bryce who was snoring louder now. Alistair moved a hand to wake him, but Wren shook her head and held up a hand, motioning for him to stay still.

"Are you gonna come snuggle, Momma?" Wynne's clear blue eyes were pleading as she scooted closer to Alistair, making room for Wren on the bed. Alistair grinned up at her, looking at least for the moment every bit as young as the man she'd married seventeen years ago. Though his hair was starting to gray at the temples, and his eyes had a few more lines around them than they had a few years ago, he was still just as handsome, just as vibrant and caring and loving as ever.

Wren peeled back the covers on her side of the bed and slid in, sandwiching Wynne's warm little body between herself and Alistair. Her husband's arm reached out and around her shoulders, pulling her in to press a kiss to the crown of her head before doing the same to Wynne. The little girl rolled over to wrap her arms around her mother's waist, before settling her golden head against Wren's stomach. Wren took a moment to just look at the scene around her. The incredible man beside her, the children in their laps. Children that she hadn't wanted, hadn't expected. But now they were here, and she couldn't imagine the last seven years of her life without two little sets of feet toddling through the palace. Four little hands, always clamoring for a secure grasp on the sleeves of their parents when they became frightened or sad. Four sweet, innocent little eyes, one ice blue pair and one summer green pair. It was more than she could have ever asked for. And it was everything that she would ever need.


	9. Oriana Mahariel: Inroductions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the order of how these will be posted here, most likely:
> 
> Posey Shepard: Chapters 1 - 4  
> Wren Cousland: 5 - 8  
> Oriana Mahariel: 9 - 12  
> Anya Grace Hawke: 13 - 16  
> Dawn Hawke: 17 - 20  
> Celeste Trevelyan: 21 - 24  
> Velwynne Lavellan: 25 - 28
> 
> I'll post this at the beginning of each chapter for easy reference, and the OC's name will be listed in their relevant chapters as well!

Oriana Mahariel

Raised in the Mahariel clan of Dalish elves, Oriana learned to appreciate her rich heritage from an early age. Because she was never really exposed to outsiders until late in her teenage years, she has developed a somewhat skewed, superior mindset about the Dalish people, therefore is incredibly sensitive and stubborn when argued with or when others put down the Dalish culture. She was raised to be a highly skilled archer, promising to be one of the best hunters the clan had to offer. Growing up, she was often pitted against her best friend and childhood love, Tamlen, in archery contests, which she almost always won. By the time she and Tamlen were old enough to make the decision to be married, they'd fallen absolutely in love with each other, and everything was set to happen smoothly. That is, until Duncan showed up, and the events of the mirror took place which lead to Tamlen's disappearance and Oriana's induction into the Grey Wardens, much to her horror.

Her mabari companion, having joined them just outside of Ostagar, was something entirely new and foreign to her. She'd never seen such a beast before, and Alistair had to explain multiple times the concept of owning an animal. Even after he did this, she never truly considered the dog a 'pet', always referring to him as her companion or even her friend. To this day, it amuses the others who travelled with her to no end that the fierce mabari was somehow named 'Dog', as that was the only word it would ever respond to, even when Oriana commanded it to do something. Oriana would simply shrug when they laughed, and Dog the mabari hound would loll his tongue about and shove his head under her hand for more affection.

She was always a woman of few words, speaking only when necessary and having somewhat of a distaste for politics because of this. Honesty and determination were two of the traits that she focused on immensely during her upbringing, believing that they would help her in finding her own destiny (which, in some small ways, they may have). But because she is so impatient with conversations, Oriana tends to rush headlong into situations with a full rundown first. This often puts her in interesting positions, especially with her partner Zevran (hehe, see what I did there).

At first, Zevran was a purely physical distraction from both the immense responsibility that had been thrown at her with the Blight, and the loss of Tamlen. But slowly, he opened her up to talk about it, beginning after Tamlen appeared in the attack on their camp outside of Redcliffe. As they grew closer and closer, Oriana began to realize that perhaps there was a future without Tamlen, assuming they were able to defeat the Archdemon. Zevran seemed to think so, too, giving her his earring as a sign of hope and of faith in each other.

Any questions that you may have about Oriana's background, personality, quirks, or even minor details are more than welcome (and most appreciated)!!


	10. Oriana Mahariel: Childhood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's the order of how these will be posted here, most likely:
> 
> Posey Shepard: Chapters 1 - 4  
> Wren Cousland: 5 - 8  
> Oriana Mahariel: 9 - 12  
> Anya Grace Hawke: 13 - 16  
> Dawn Hawke: 17 - 20  
> Celeste Trevelyan: 21 - 24  
> Velwynne Lavellan: 25 - 28
> 
> I'll post this at the beginning of each chapter for easy reference, and the OC's name will be listed in their relevant chapters as well!

_A moment from Oriana Mahariel’s childhood..._

Tamlen was always a few steps ahead of her as they plunged through the brush, howling after the rabbit that both of them knew was far out of their reach by now. Their bows weren't even drawn, the hunt almost totally abandoned in lieu of a footrace. Oriana stretched her legs out as far as they would go, but she still couldn't keep up with Tamlen's tall, slender form. He stepped gracefully along the well-worn path and the distance between them increased bit by bit.

Her lungs burned for air, but she refused to let him win this time. Tamlen always won their races.

"Tamlen!" she called out breathlessly, grinning when he turned over his shoulder. He was momentarily distracted and slowed, and Oriana pressed the advantage. She overtook him, laughing when he let out an offended cry. Her smile was so wide that she couldn't feel her cheeks anymore. Her chest ached, her feet hurt, but she was ahead of Tamlen and nothing could bring her down just then.

The brush was thinning significantly, and Oriana knew that they were close to their hideout. She pushed every muscle for just a few moments more, until she finally broke through into the clearing. As she collapsed into the grass, gasping for air, Tamlen tumbled down beside her. He lay stretched out on his stomach, his face turned towards her. Vallaslin curled gracefully over his forehead, still slightly red from the tattooing only a few days ago. His sandy hair fell across most of it, but Oriana had already memorized the design, spanned out across his forehead and down around his cheeks.

The sunlight that filtered down over them was tinted green by the canopy of leaves above. It made Tamlen's eyes even more vibrant, even more mischievous than usual as Oriana turned her head to meet his gaze. They were close enough that she could feel his warm breath fanning across her cheek as they still panted for breath from their run. She smiled, triumphant.

"I beat you."

That earned a quiet chuckle from him. "For once."

Oriana sat up quickly, pointing an indignant finger at his chest. "I've won before! I've _so_ won before!"

"Not that I remember." Tamlen was pushing himself upwards now, resting casually his elbows. His eyebrows quirked in amusement, even as Oriana huffed a loose lock of white hair out of her face. Her eyes narrowed at him.

"Well, you remember wrong."

"I don't think so." Now he was sitting up fully, legs folding beneath him. The corner of his lips twitched, fighting to break into laughter at Oriana's exasperated expression.

"I distinctly remember beating you, Tamlen. It was a couple of months ago, when the flowers were just starting to bloom, remember? I was ahead of you all the way from camp. There was a halla with two new fauns here when we got here, she let us pet them. I know you remember that. Don't lie. I've beaten you before."

He was even closer now, on his knees with his hands folded in his lap.

"Fine, you win." His eyes glinted and she rolled her eyes.

"Whatever," she muttered. "Don't say things just to make me feel better." She looked up again into his eyes, startled at the softness she found there behind his smirk.

"Oriana, shut up and accept my gracious loss."

" _You_ shut up."

"I said it first." He leaned forward towards her, challenging her.

Oriana's eyes blazed then, still playful though her mouth had turned into a hard-set frown. But whatever smart retort she had prepared faltered and died on her lips. "Well, I... I, umm... I -"

Tamlen's lips pressed against hers, cutting off whatever inarticulate response she'd been about to give. She was still for a moment, and then all of a sudden it hit her exactly what was happening. A little squeal of surprise escaped her, and her basic instincts kicked in. Her arm swung up, there was a sharp crack, and then Tamlen was reeling backwards into the grass, yelling in shock and pain.

Oriana couldn't do anything but sit there, flustered and sputtering. "You... Tamlen! You kissed me! What in Mythal's _name_... Oh, Creators, Tamlen, your nose!"

He had managed to sit up again, cupping the blood dripping out of his nose. "I'm fibe," he coughed out, holding up a hand to keep her back. "S'all good, I probise."

"Come on, you idiot," Oriana chuckled, knowing that he'd be fine once he got to the camp. She hooked an arm around his elbow and led him slowly back towards where the aravels were gathered for the summer, smirking and shaking her head the whole way home.

The Keeper saw them immediately when they entered the camp. She looked Tamlen up and down once, sent him off to see Merrill to get healed up, and then asked Oriana what had happened. After hearing the story, Keeper Marethari laughed for a solid ten minutes, quieting only when Tamlen returned. His face was flushed bright pink, all the way up to the pointed tips of his ears. Marethari glanced between the two of them, gave a knowing smirk, and walked away, leaving them alone. Tamlen wouldn't look up from his feet as he muttered something quietly.

"What was that, Tamlen?"

"I'm sorry," he sighed, a little louder. "About the... For kissing you."

"Don't be silly," Oriana murmured, lifting a hand to his chin. She tilted his face up so that he was looking at her again, and before he had the time to say anything else, she pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek. Without another word, she walked away towards her own aravel, beaming with childish joy the whole walk home.


	11. Oriana Mahariel: Romance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's the order of how these will be posted here, most likely:
> 
> Posey Shepard: Chapters 1 - 4  
> Wren Cousland: 5 - 8  
> Oriana Mahariel: 9 - 12  
> Anya Grace Hawke: 13 - 16  
> Dawn Hawke: 17 - 20  
> Celeste Trevelyan: 21 - 24  
> Velwynne Lavellan: 25 - 28
> 
> I'll post this at the beginning of each chapter for easy reference, and the OC's name will be listed in their relevant chapters as well!

_A romantic moment between Oriana Mahariel and Zevran Arainai..._

If she hadn' t been told what to expect, she would have thought she was going insane by now. The whispers had started months ago, but it was only now that they were loud enough to understand what they wanted from her. _To the deep roads,_ they said. _Find the Old God. Corruption. Darkness. ._

She hadn't told Zevran, yet. How was she to go about bringing up that it was her time to go, to stalk off into the deep roads and hack away at darkspawn until they overtook her. The mere thought of it sent shivers down her spine, made her blood turn to ice in her veins.

Zevran must have noticed that something was wrong by this point, though. It was getting hard to deny the circles beneath her eyes, the gradual wasting away of  what little curves she'd had in the first place. The silver of her hair had already begun to fade, and as she looked at herself in a hand mirror in their tent one morning, she realized that her eyes had begun to take on a permanent bloodshot appearance. Even in the dim light of their tent, Oriana knew that she looked horrible. And it was unfair to keep this from him.

She was resolved, then, to tell him. That day, she was going to find a time to sit him down, to let him know that it was her time to go. That her Calling had finally come, albeit much earlier than either of them had expected. Although it would always be too early to face inevitable death, she supposed.

She brushed a finger against the small golden hoop dangling from her left ear. Her most prized possession at this point, representative of all the years she'd been traveling with Zevran now. Ten years since he'd attempted to assassinate her, and taken hold of her heart instead. She had to stifle a chuckle at the thought - Zevran was such a light sleeper, sometimes even the lowest noise would wake him these days. Oriana tried to be gentle as she slipped out from beneath the covers they'd laid out on the ground, feeling around in the dim morning light for her tunic.

A warm, slender hand met her waist and pulled her back to the nest of blankets. Oriana wanted to just lie back, gently kiss him awake and tell him all sorts of wonderful mischief they could get into today. But she had darker news to give him.

His sleepy "G'morning" was mumbled against her skin as he pressed kisses up her spine. But when she made no move to respond, he tossed the covers off of his legs and crawled over to her side, turning her chin towards him with a furrowed brow. "Everything all right, my dear?"

She wanted to say yes. Oh, Creators, how she wished she could just fall back into his arms and pretend everything was okay for one day more. But no, it was time. She kissed the palm that was pressed against her cheek and took his other hand between hers.

"Zevran," she whispered, and instantly his face fell. "I need to tell you something."

"Bad news must be delivered in tragic poetry," he murmured, trying and failing to smile. Oriana shook her head, feeling tears stinging against her eyes.

"I started hearing it, Zev. The whispers. It's time for me to go."

In an instant, his arms were around her, crushing her against his chest. She wanted to believe that she was just imagining  the shaking in his limbs, the trembling of his chin against her shoulder. The crack in his voice as he whispered, "No. Please, no."

"I'm going to try to look for a cure," she murmured, stroking her fingers gently up his spine in an attempt to comfort him. "So no one else will ever go this way."

"What is it like?" His question was sincere, his arms tightening around her.

"It doesn't hurt," she replied, quietly. "Not yet, anyway. I'll be able to fight."

"I'm coming with you."

Oriana pulled back and looked Zevran dead in the eyes. "You what?"

"You won't be going alone," he said, dead serious. "There is no life for me here without you. And if there is a cure to be found, then I will help you find it. I will be with you until the end."

"Zev, I can't ask you to -"

"You're not asking, and I shall not take no for an answer."

A small smile lifted the corners of her mouth. Zevran flashed his usual arrogant smile, doing his best to conceal the sadness underneath. Oriana leaned up to kiss his cheek, gently. Already taking every opportunity she could to keep him close, to let him know how much she loved him.

They collapsed back amongst their blankets and just held each other, for the longest time. When Zevran began to grow restless, they got up, packed their tent, and set off to search for a cure for the Calling.


	12. Oriana Mahariel: Years Later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's the order of how these will be posted here, most likely:
> 
> Posey Shepard: Chapters 1 - 4  
> Wren Cousland: 5 - 8  
> Oriana Mahariel: 9 - 12  
> Anya Grace Hawke: 13 - 16  
> Dawn Hawke: 17 - 20  
> Celeste Trevelyan: 21 - 24  
> Velwynne Lavellan: 25 - 28
> 
> I'll post this at the beginning of each chapter for easy reference, and the OC's name will be listed in their relevant chapters as well!

It was very unlady-like, and very unprofessional, for Leliana to be squealing excitedly  as the  gates of Skyhold opened. Coming across the bridge were two familiar figures, clad in dark travel gear but still instantly recognizable to the spymaster of the former Inquisition. The Hero of Ferelden was beaming as she reigned her horse to a stop and dismounted gracefully, before jogging towards Leliana. The two met in a cheerful embrace, hugging each other for the longest time.

"Oh, my sweet friend," Leliana laughed, "I have missed you so!" Zevran strolled up behind them, tilting his crow-shaped mask back and welcoming Leliana into his arms with a grin. "And Zevran! Ah, it is so good to see the both of you. I'm so glad you are here!"

She wedged herself between Oriana and Zevran and wrapped her arms between theirs, escorting them into Skyhold. An attendant was already there to take the horses off to the stables. Rather than leading the two towards the old war room, Leliana pulled them down a side stairwell and into a dusty old basement, where a small group of people was already gathered.

Leliana gestured towards the cluttered table in front of them. "Welcome to the remnants of the Inquisition."

An exotic, dark-skinned woman with raven black hair pulled into an impeccably neat bun, a quill tucked behind her ear for safe-keeping, and a tidy clipboard with a low-burning candle was the first to approach. Her eyes were sharp and careful as she appraised Oriana and Zevran, but her smile seemed genuine enough. "Welcome, my lady. My name is Josephine Montilyet, of Antiva. We are honored by your presence with us."

"No need for that," Oriana waved dismissively. "Just Oriana will be fine." The ambassador smiled gently and curtsied.

"If you insist."

"The Hero of Ferelden," came a rich, husky voice from the other side of the low table in the middle of the room. "It's been quite some time, hasn't it?" Oriana looked up and found that she immediately recognized the man from the Circle Tower all those years ago - though now he looked much healthier, less haunted, more like a person instead of a hollow shell.

"You must be the Commander. Cullen, right?" The man's golden curls bounced just a little as he nodded, his eyes sincere.

"Cullen Rutherford, at your service. I don't suppose I ever had the chance to properly thank you for what you did at Kinloch. Words cannot express how much you did for me, for all those present, that day."

"You're looking well, Commander Rutherford," Oriana smiled in response, chuckling internally when she felt Zevran's arm slip possessively around her waist. "You've met Zevran Arainai. He was with me when we retook the tower." Cullen nodded, extending a gloved hand towards Zevran. The assassin took his hand firmly and shook once, nodding as he did so.

Leliana then spoke up again, gesturing towards the other woman in the room. "Allow me to introduce Velwynne Lavellan, the Inquisitor." Her face was drawn, eyebrows pulled into a severe expression, shockingly white hair pushed back behind one pointed ear. The short, slender elf was resting one hand against the table, and Oriana could just make out where the sleeve of her tunic had been pinned up  below the elbow.

When Oriana had heard that the Inquisitor was a fellow Dalish, she'd been intrigued. Rumors had circulated that she had been the former First of her Clan - but with that title, she would have been required to take her vallaslin before being truly inducted as the First. Without thinking, Oriana turned to the Inquisitor.

"What happened to your vallaslin?" she asked, in a tone that meant to give no offense. However, it clearly had a negative effect on the other woman. An angry blush crept across her freckled, deeply scarred cheeks, all the way up to the tips of her ears, which twitched in annoyance.

"You don't want to know, lethallan." That was all that the Inquisitor seemed willing to say on the subject, so Oriana turned sheepishly to Leliana. The former spymaster shook her head as if to say that Velwynne's tenderness on the subject was not Oriana's fault, though that did little to make Oriana feel better about offending the woman who had saved all of Thedas.

"Erm, shall we get started then?" Josephine stepped in to salvage the situation, gathering a stack of papers from the table. "Oriana, you've been informed of the events of the Winter Palace, correct?" When she nodded, Josephine shuffled more of the papers away from the map on the table, before gesturing towards a dagger that had been driven through the map.

"Tevinter? Why there?"

Velwynne's fingers unconsciously brushed the edge of the table as she spoke. "That is the only place where we're going to find people that Solas does not yet have access to."

Cullen's eyes found Leliana's in the low light, and he nodded briskly. "We've already sent out agents to scout for potential headquarters there, but we wanted to wait until the two of you got here. We figured you may have contacts there that we do not know about."

"Or we could just go ourselves," Zevran said with a cheeky grin. Leliana looked alarmed, turning towards him.

"That's absurd! They'd recognize the Hero of Ferelden in an instant!"

"Perhaps that's just what we need," Oriana said with a grin. "Let them have a political guest, but one who has not been relevant for quite some time."

"You'd certainly be less..." Josephine sucked in a breath as she tried to think of a proper word. "Excitatory, than Lady Lavellan, this is true. But still enough of an event to cause a few parties, where certain dignitaries are sure to gather. Their servants may make suitable recruits for our cause."

"Ooh, I do hope you run into Dorian," Leliana said excitedly, squeezing Oriana's arm gently. "You two would get along fantastically."

"It's decided then." Cullen pulled a small iron marker from his pocket, a griffon in flight. He set it gently on the board beside the dagger, sighing as though he did not completely approve.

"It's decided," Oriana repeated, her grip on Zevran's hand tightening. "To Tevinter we go."


	13. Anya Grace Hawke: Introductions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the order of how these will be posted here, most likely:
> 
> Posey Shepard: Chapters 1 - 4  
> Wren Cousland: 5 - 8  
> Oriana Mahariel: 9 - 12  
> Anya Grace Hawke: 13 - 16  
> Dawn Hawke: 17 - 20  
> Celeste Trevelyan: 21 - 24  
> Velwynne Lavellan: 25 - 28
> 
> I'll post this at the beginning of each chapter for easy reference, and the OC's name will be listed in their relevant chapters as well!

Uninterested in others' opinions from the very start, Anya Grace is a force to be reckoned with. Stubborn, hard-headed, and vicious in defense of her friends and of her fellow mages, she leaves an easy-to-follow path of destruction wherever she goes. She was never one to care much for rules, especially those that trampled on the rights of the less-fortunate. As a child, she was the first to step in to defend Bethany if someone tried to cause trouble, but it was clear to anyone who observed her closely that Carver was her true favorite. They'd often spar for hours on end, until Leandra would force them to come back inside for dinner or because there were Templars roaming about near their property.

Anya Grace originally manifested with fire magic, something that made Leandra exceedingly nervous. To offset this, Malcolm taught her the basics of the healing arts, what little he knew. While her little sister, Bethany, became a master of ice and stone, Anya Grace proved to be quite proficient at hurling fireballs at her enemies and keeping her friends healed up in battle.

Upon arrival in Kirkwall with Leandra, Carver, Aveline, and her pet mabari Harbinger, the plight of the elves and caging of the city's mages affected her deeply. She seemed radical, even to Anders in the beginning of their time together. Anya Grace quickly found that she butted heads on nearly every subject with Fenris, but the more they fought the more she realized that she may have feelings for him, despite their disagreements. They soon settled into a tense, passionate relationship with many vicious arguments, one of which came about when Anya accidentally revealed herself as a blood mage.

In the midst of battle, Fenris had fallen at the hands of one of the slavers tracking him down. Her anger at the slavers and fear for Fenris's life led to her desperate use of blood magic to bring him back - he realized shortly after dispatching the last enemy what she'd done, and the two didn't speak for a week until she promised to never do it again. He would always be angry about it, but his love for her forced him to look past it for the time being.

Anya Grace's firmest belief in life is that people should be able to do as they please, so long as it doesn't harm another person. Her relationship with Fenris eventually toned down her radicalism, even as Anders' plans skyrocketed into motion. Throughout her last few years in Kirkwall, she struggled to find balance between protecting her friends and speaking out against the templars, having always been terrified of speaking in large crowds (especially crowds of people who thought she deserved to be dead, just for being born with magic). As protective as she was of the mages, she knew that Anders had done wrong, and took his life as penance after the explosion at the Chantry. She did so with a great deal of pain, knowing that her hand had taken the life of one of her closest friends.

Any questions that you may have about Anya Grace's background, personality, quirks, or even minor details are more than welcome (and most appreciated)!!


	14. Anya Grace: Childhood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's the order of how these will be posted here, most likely:
> 
> Posey Shepard: Chapters 1 - 4  
> Wren Cousland: 5 - 8  
> Oriana Mahariel: 9 - 12  
> Anya Grace Hawke: 13 - 16  
> Dawn Hawke: 17 - 20  
> Celeste Trevelyan: 21 - 24  
> Velwynne Lavellan: 25 - 28
> 
> I'll post this at the beginning of each chapter for easy reference, and the OC's name will be listed in their relevant chapters as well!

_A moment from Anya Grace Hawke’s childhood..._

It felt like she'd been here for hours. Her legs had fallen asleep long ago from sitting criss-crossed on the floor, her back against the wall of the hallway across from her parents' bedroom door. Father had said that it might take a really long time, but Anya was just now starting to think that maybe he meant to say it would be a really, really, really long time. She wanted someone to open the bedroom door, beckon her in.

Her chubby little fingers ran up and down the stems of the flowers she'd picked earlier. Little blue and yellow wildflowers, the ones that grew in big patches just by the Chantry. They'd already wilted a little while she waited, but she knew that Mama would still like them anyways. Mama always said these flowers were her favorites. And Father had said that she would be really tired when Anya finally got to see her, so flowers would surely help her feel better.

A strange, thin little wail sounded from the other side of the bedroom door. Anya scrambled onto her feet and pressed her ear against the thick wood, listening carefully. She could hear someone, maybe it was Father, murmuring something. Footsteps echoed back and forth, and then there was another cry, louder and more upset sounding. Then, a deep, hearty, incredulous laugh.

She didn't like this waiting in the hall business.

Father had said not to come in until she was told. But her curiosity and concern got the best of her, and she raised one little fist to knock on the door. Just as her knuckles were about to hit, the door swung open in front of her and Father beamed down. He bent down on one knee, kissed the top of her head, and grinned. She wanted to ask why his eyes looked like he'd been crying, but his smile was big and genuine enough to push the thought out of her mind.

"Can I say hi to Mama?" she whispered, glancing back towards the scattered little pile of flowers against the wall where she'd been sitting. Father chuckled and nodded, holding the door open while she scurried over, grabbed the flowers for Mama, and rushed back inside the room. Father's hand caught the collar of her tunic though, holding her back for a moment.

"You have to be quiet, Anya Grace," he murmured, pointing towards the bed where Mama was. Anya nodded solemnly, clenched a hand tighter around the flowers, and shuffled closer. As she drew near, she could see two little blanketed bundles in her mother's arms. Realizing that her hands were too full to take the flowers, Anya set them down on the nightstand beside the bed.

"Are those for me?" Mama said softly, smiling down at Anya. She nodded and grinned, blushing and wringing her hands. "They're beautiful. I'll get your father to preserve them, okay?"

Father stepped up behind Anya then, placing a big warm hand on her shoulder. "Do you want to meet your new brother and sister?"

Anya spun on her heels, wide-eyed. "You mean there's _two_?" Father laughed, nodded, and picked her up to sit on the end of the bed. She squirmed with excitement as he carefully gathered one of the little bundles from Mama's arms, cooing gently as he cradled it close to his chest. With one hand, he reached down and arranged Anya's arms to hold the baby like he'd taught her when she'd first found out she was going to be a big sister. When she was ready, he bent down and set the baby in her lap, wrapping her arms around it gingerly to support its tiny head.

"That's your baby brother," Father murmured, brushing a thumb across the infant's cheek.

"What are we gonna call him?"

Father stilled for a moment, his brow furrowed deep in thought. Then, with a deep sigh, "Carver. His name is Carver."

"I like that," Anya muttered as she stared at the tiny nose, the wispy black hair, the little pink mouth. He seemed so fragile, so breakable.

"You'll have to be really gentle with him for a long time, Anya." Father's voice held a note held a note of caution, eyes searching hers to make sure she understood. She nodded somberly, arms tightening just slightly around the baby.

"Don't worry, Father. I'll protect him."

Carver suddenly stirred, his tiny mouth opening to let out a squeaky little yawn. The sound made Anya smile even wider. She leaned over, close enough to press a ginger kiss to Carver's forehead.

"I'll always protect you," she whispered gently, "my baby brother."


	15. Anya Grace Hawke: Romance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's the order of how these will be posted here, most likely:
> 
> Posey Shepard: Chapters 1 - 4  
> Wren Cousland: 5 - 8  
> Oriana Mahariel: 9 - 12  
> Anya Grace Hawke: 13 - 16  
> Dawn Hawke: 17 - 20  
> Celeste Trevelyan: 21 - 24  
> Velwynne Lavellan: 25 - 28
> 
> I'll post this at the beginning of each chapter for easy reference, and the OC's name will be listed in their relevant chapters as well!

Time moved differently in the Fade. The last time she'd been here, Anya hadn't realized the difference in the length of hours between the waking world and Feynriel's dream, because she didn't stay in there long enough for it to make too big of a difference.

She missed Fenris terribly. When she'd volunteered to stay behind, she had considered that she may not see him again. But the longer she remained here, the more difficult it became to imagine any sort of way out of this place. Maker only knew how long she'd been stuck here, now. She didn't feel any older - to her, it was maybe a week so far of hacking through fearlings and demons in this Maker-forsaken corner of the Fade.

And what if time moved more quickly outside the Fade? For all she knew, Fenris may have been alone for months, maybe even years. The thought of him alone, wandering through Ferelden or Orlais or even back to Tevinter, brought an ache to her chest.

By now, Anya had become accustomed to the hissing, skittering, scratching noises that usually heralded a swarm of fearlings in the near vicinity. But what she heard just then was none of these things - as she tiptoed around the corner of a path, she could swear that she was hearing voices. Real people voices, not just the whispers of her past mistakes and demons who had taken on Fenris's appearance begging her to stay, for just a little longer.

Her pace increased, and the voices grew louder as her feet pounded up the slope of a rocky hill. When she reached the top, she looked around frantically for the source. The world grew still when she finally saw someone, at the bottom of a long staircase a couple hundred yards away. Something about the posture of the women was familiar, but they were too far away for Anya to be sure who they were. She nearly tripped over herself to get down to the group as fast as she could, but she truly began to panic when some of them started to turn and walk away, back up the staircase.

"No, please, no," she whispered to herself, "don't leave," her breath catching in her lungs as she stumbled closer. Fifty yards away now, maybe, and she could finally realize who was still standing there. The white hair, the elegant robes, the imposing stance - she'd have recognized this woman anywhere.

"Flemeth!" she called out desperately, half-choking on relief when the woman turned towards her. Exhausted, Anya collapsed on her knees at Flemeth's feet, fighting for breath. When she looked up, Flemeth's face was just as drawn as she remembered, even more tired than when they'd last met outside of Kirkwall.

"I remember you," the elder woman said quietly, her eyes softening. "Hawke, correct?" Anya nodded slowly, and Flemeth smiled. "You leapt."

"I what?"

"Do you remember, child? When you paid your debt, delivered that amulet of mine, I told you that big things were coming. That changes would occur beyond anyone's prediction. And that you would be at the forefront of these things. You do remember this, right?" Anya nodded again, still confused. Flemeth sighed briefly and waved a hand dismissively. "I told you that the world stood on the precipice of change, and that you need not hesitate in the face of death. And you didn't. You took that leap of faith. I'm very proud."

"You're proud? Of me?" Anya muttered, and the smile on Flemeth's face grew wider, warmer.

"So very proud. There are a great many people who have benefited from your bravery. The warden Alistair, the Lady Inquisitor. You've done such great things, where you truly had no obligation to do so."

"I just want to go home," Anya whispered, hearing her own voice catch in her throat. "Please, I know that you don't owe me anything. And there is nothing that I have left to give in return, but please. Help me get home, to Fenris." She lowered her head, too afraid to look into Flemeth's eyes and see the rejection she knew would be there.

A hand lifted her chin, another tugging at her shoulder until she was standing, eye-to-eye with this mysterious woman. "Your duty to this world is done, my child," Flemeth murmured, pulling Anya in for a crushing hug. "I thank you for what you've done, and I apologize for the pain that you've experienced. You have earned a rest, I believe."

With that, she stepped away from Anya and walked towards a mirror, one that looked like the one that Merrill had tried to fix. A pass of her hand, and Flemeth made the mirror glow with an eerily vibrant light, where it no longer reflected their image but showed something beyond, another place. There was a hand on her back, pushing her towards the mirror.

"Go, young Hawke. This is your reward."

Anya stumbled towards the mirror, her fingers trembling as she reached out towards it. When she expected her fingertips to meet cool glass, she felt only like she was plunging her hand into warm water. She stepped further, feeling her arm, then her shoulder, then her whole body enveloped in the warmth.

When her eyes opened, she was in a place so shockingly familiar to her that it took her breath away. The cabin she had found with Fenris, months ago, where they'd been hiding since fleeing Kirkwall. Merrill had joined them when the situation with the elves in Kirkwall finally spiraled out of any sort of control, and she was standing in front of Anya, eyes wider than they'd ever been and a shattered glass of water at her feet.

"Holy Creators," the elf whispered, tears springing from her eyes in an instant. "Hawke! Hawke, you're here! And the eluvian, _oh Creators the eluvian works_!" Quick as a whip, Merrill's arms were around her waist, crushing her close as she sobbed into Anya's chest. "Varric said... H-he sent us this awful letter, he said you were gone, Hawke! In the Fade!"

"I'm here now, Merrill," Anya said soothingly, returning her friend's embrace. "But I need to find Fenris."

"H-hawke?"

The most familiar, comforting voice she'd ever heard came from the front door of the cabin. Fenris was standing there, a few dead hares hanging from one hand and the other carrying a water sack. He dropped everything he was carrying, and just stared at her, making no attempt to move. Merrill instantly stepped back, so that Anya could take slow and disbelieving steps towards Fenris's frozen form.

When she was close enough to smell the familiar spice of him, lyrium and clean sweat and everything she ever wanted to call home, she stopped for a moment. When he looked up to meet her gaze, the bags under his eyes, his eyes bloodshot and tired echoed the way she knew she must appear to him right now. Her fingers reached up to stroke away the single tear that fell across his cheek, even as her own floodgates opened and she couldn't repress the sob that choked its way out of her throat.

"Fenris."

"You're here," he murmured, disbelief still coloring his voice. His hands reached for hers, wrapping around her wrists as if to make sure that she was real, she was here. This wasn't some Fade nightmare, Hawke was back and she was _here_ in his arms. Anya bent down and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, grinning when his arms went around her waist and squeezed like he was never going to let her go.

"I'm here, Fenris," Anya mumbled against his skin, peppering more kisses over his forehead, his nose, his cheeks, his eyelids. "I'm here, and I will never leave you again."


	16. Anya Grace Hawke - Years Later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's the order of how these will be posted here, most likely:
> 
> Posey Shepard: Chapters 1 - 4  
> Wren Cousland: 5 - 8  
> Oriana Mahariel: 9 - 12  
> Anya Grace Hawke: 13 - 16  
> Dawn Hawke: 17 - 20  
> Celeste Trevelyan: 21 - 24  
> Velwynne Lavellan: 25 - 28
> 
> I'll post this at the beginning of each chapter for easy reference, and the OC's name will be listed in their relevant chapters as well!

He still stumbled over words, sometimes, but it was rare. Most of the time, Fenris read as though he'd been doing it all his life, his voice deep and rich and smooth as silk, and his breath tickling her ear. This was their nightly ritual now - he would pick out a tome from their small collection, lean up against the headboard, and set the book in Anya's lap as she leaned back against him. She would close her eyes and just enjoy the sound of his voice, the quiet rustle of turning pages as he read onward long into the night, and eventually he would close the book, once he knew she was asleep, and scoot himself down so that he was laying beside her when he drifted off himself.

The reading selection for tonight was tailored more towards Anya herself, an in-depth exploration of Necromancy that the Inquisitor had once gifted to Anya all those years ago, when there were still holes in the sky and before Anya had realized how much she _really_ disliked being physically inside the Fade. As Fenris read on, now leafing carefully through the chapter on what runes and crystals put on staves would best serve the purpose of Necromancy, Anya wanted to listen. She really did, but it had been an exhausting day, and both mind and body were growing heavy with sleep.

Just as her eyelids had fluttered shut, earning a small chuckle from Fenris, the door to their bedroom opened, hinges squeaking ferociously. Anya cringed and sat up, rubbing at her eyes with one hand and smiling when she recognized their guest. It wasn't unusual for Valora to come sneaking into their room late at night, her black hair all stuck out in different directions and ocean-blue eyes just begging to crawl up into their bed.

But it didn't take more than a moment for Anya to realize that Valora had been crying, the tear tracks obvious even in the low candlelight that Fenris had been reading by. Fenris felt Anya's entire body tense against his, even as she pushed herself into a sitting position.

"Valora," Fenris murmured, extending a hand towards her. "What's the matter?"

"My... M-my doll, she caught fire, I don't know wh-what happened but -"

Fenris and Anya were both out of the bed in an instant, racing towards their daughter's room. Anya had an ice spell ready with one hand as she opened the door with the other, ready to extinguish the flames.

But there weren't any flames. Only a little charred spot on the floor by the side of Valora's bed.

"Where is the fire, darling?" Anya said slowly, kneeling down beside her daughter. The child just shrugged, staring at the spot.

"It went away. I made it go away."

Fenris sucked in a quick breath, hoping he'd misheard, or at least misunderstood what his child had just said. Anya avoided his eyes, choosing instead to take Valora's tiny hands in her own. "What do you mean, Valora? How did you make it go away?"

"I asked it to, nicely. I think it liked me."

When Anya sighed and gathered the child up in her arms, she could hear Fenris's quiet footsteps leaving the room. Anya carried Valora back to her bed and tucked her in gently, pressing a kiss to her forehead and pulling the covers up around her chin. The child drifted back to sleep after a few minutes of stroking her hair, and then Anya snuck out into the hallway, closing the door quietly behind her. Fenris was sitting on the floor, his back against the wall and his head in his hands. Anya slid down the wall opposite him, waiting.

He looked up, but didn't speak. His eyes were wide, terrified, his chin trembling just slightly.

"Fenris," Anya began, but he waved her off dismissively.

"Don't."

So she didn't. She didn't say a word - just sat there and waited for him to move, speak, anything. Finally, he let out a ragged breath.

"I love that child more than my own life," he murmured, just loud enough for Anya to hear. "Protect her, Hawke. You make sure that she uses it... magic... for good. Only good."

Anya nodded briskly, pushing herself up to standing and reaching an arm out to help Fenris up. He leaned his head against her chest, trying his best to take deep, controlled breaths, lest the gravity of this newfound situation knock him breathless once again. "She'll be safe here, Fenris. We'll make sure of it."

He nodded against her and found her hand, squeezing it tight. "That's our girl, Hawke.  Our baby."

"I'm sorry, Fenris."

His eyes narrowed in confusion as he looked up at her. "Sorry for what?"

"For the magic," Anya whispered, feeling tears spark in her own eyes. "For passing it on."

He understood then, and shook his head vehemently even as he reached up to brush the tears from her eyes. "This is not your fault, Hawke. You did not choose this life for yourself, and you did not choose it for Valora. But we will be here for her, and we will watch over her. So long as I live, our daughter will be safe."

Anya gave him a watery smile, resting her forehead against his. "She'll be safe."

"Come, amatus," Fenris said quietly, pulling her towards the bedroom. "Get some sleep. We'll have lots to discuss tomorrow."


	17. Dawn Hawke: Introductions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the order of how these will be posted here, most likely:
> 
> Posey Shepard: Chapters 1 - 4  
> Wren Cousland: 5 - 8  
> Oriana Mahariel: 9 - 12  
> Anya Grace Hawke: 13 - 16  
> Dawn Hawke: 17 - 20  
> Celeste Trevelyan: 21 - 24  
> Velwynne Lavellan: 25 - 28
> 
> I'll post this at the beginning of each chapter for easy reference, and the OC's name will be listed in their relevant chapters as well!

**Dawn Violet Hawke**

The kindest soul in Kirkwall. That's how most of the people of Lowtown and Darktown came to remember her, even after all of the events that transpired during her time as a resident there. Dawn was always the most diplomatic and kind of the Hawke children, surpassing even Bethany in her capacity for generosity and compassion. Being blessed with powerful healing magic, during her first few years in Kirkwall she  somehow managed to balance her time between assisting the smuggling group under Athenril and helping out her new friend, Anders, in his Darktown clinic.

Throughout their time working together, Anders and Dawn would pass stories back and forth of how they discovered their powers, the ever-present Templar threat in Lothering and the Circles, and the strangest patients that they'd ever treated. Feelings developed quickly between the two, evolving into a strong relationship where they agreed on almost everything.

Dawn is always quick to save as many lives as she can, but will not hesitate to protect any of her friends from a threat. And she will never, under any circumstances, condone the use of blood magic, often forbidding even Merrill to use it in her presence unless it was under the most dire of circumstances. In battles, she almost always prefers to incapacitate her enemies if at all possible, relying on Fenris or Aveline to finish the deed as she quickly turned her head away. Death affected her greatly, often weighing down her spirit after a particularly large fight.

Having always been highly intuitive, Dawn knew that Anders was up to something when he first asked her to help him separate Justice. But because she trusted him so fully, she allowed his plan to follow through. She couldn't bring herself to kill him, even after the explosion at the chantry, and even accompanied him as they fled Kirkwall. But she didn't speak to him for weeks, only following silently in his footsteps and pitching her own tent when they would stop for a few hours of rest. When they finally came to a confrontation about what had occurred, Anders turned her own mantra of saving as many lives as possible against her, citing that while the loss of the Grand Cleric and other members of the Kirkwall Chantry was tragic, it was leading to thousands of lives being saved as a result. When Dawn considered the implications of this, she chose to forgive him and remain by his side until Varric contacted her with news that Corypheus had returned, and was now threatening all of Thedas.

Any questions that you may have about Dawn's background, personality, quirks, or even minor details are more than welcome (and most appreciated)!!


	18. Dawn Hawke: Childhood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's the order of how these will be posted here, most likely:
> 
> Posey Shepard: Chapters 1 - 4  
> Wren Cousland: 5 - 8  
> Oriana Mahariel: 9 - 12  
> Anya Grace Hawke: 13 - 16  
> Dawn Hawke: 17 - 20  
> Celeste Trevelyan: 21 - 24  
> Velwynne Lavellan: 25 - 28
> 
> I'll post this at the beginning of each chapter for easy reference, and the OC's name will be listed in their relevant chapters as well!

_A moment from Dawn Hawke’s childhood..._

Two stairs at a time, Dawn scrambled downstairs just as the sun started to peek up over the horizon. She had tried to wait until a decent time to wake up her parents, she really had, but it was her birthday and she was just so _excited_.

She was delighted to see kitchen already lit up, and the smell of fresh bacon hit her a moment later.

"Dawn, is that you?" Her father's voice drifted out from the kitchen, prompting her to scurry in to meet him. A little ball of magical light hovered over his head, illuminating his work at the oven. He smiled when she wrapped her thin arms around his waist and squeezed gently.

"G'morning, Papa," she said into the hem of his shirt. He patted the back of her head and then extricated himself from her grasp, turning toward the storage closet at the other end of the room. His hand hovered over the door handle, as he threw a mischievous, warm glance back at Dawn who was still standing obediently beside the oven.

"Wait right there."

Ever the dutiful child, she stood stock still, though she was nearly vibrating with excitement. When Malcolm reemerged, he had a long, slender package in his arms, and a beaming smile on his face. He walked past her and set the package down on the dining table, beckoning her to come sit in one of the chairs. When she had climbed up into the chair, she glanced up nervously.

"Shouldn't we wait for Mama to open presents?"

There was something sad in his eyes, but the smile remained. "Your mother wanted this to be just between the two of us. It's very special. Go on, open it."

Her little hands trembled as she ran a hand over the crinkled brown paper wrapping. Just from touch, she couldn't tell what it was. Nails digging in just enough to get a grip on the paper, she began to pull the wrapping away.

At first she saw white, and didn't understand what this was. Then, as more and more of the item was revealed, her heart began to beat nearly out of her chest.

The staff was long, a little taller than she was, and carved out of one of the whitewood trees that she knew only grew in groves around the Korcari Wilds. The top consisted of a small purple stone, surrounded by tendrils of wood that had been carved around to keep the stone in place.

As she grew more and more excited, the staff began to feel warm in her hands. Her eyes widened when the stone at the end gave off a faint, hazy glow. Her father put a hand to her shoulder, kneeling down beside her.

"Your first staff," he murmured, and all she could do was nod in response. "We'll go try it out later today, all right? Back in the woods, in the meadow where it's safe."

Even though she was young, she knew what he meant when he said it was safe. When she'd come into her a magic a few months ago, her father had finally sat her down and explained the real job of the tall men in armor who stopped by their home every so often. He'd explained why he always hid his staff when the Templars came, shown her the secret storage space in the floor beneath the dining room. Told her that she must always keep her magic under control. That even if something happened one day, even if he had to leave with the Templars, she mustn't let anger control her. The only circumstance in which she was to use magic, outside of teaching at this point, was if something were to threaten Mama or the twins. Those were the rules he'd set down, right out of the gate when he realized that Dawn would one day be a powerful mage. That was the day he'd made her say with him, for the first time, "My magic will serve that which is best in me, not that which is most base."


	19. Dawn Hawke: Romance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's the order of how these will be posted here, most likely:
> 
> Posey Shepard: Chapters 1 - 4  
> Wren Cousland: 5 - 8  
> Oriana Mahariel: 9 - 12  
> Anya Grace Hawke: 13 - 16  
> Dawn Hawke: 17 - 20  
> Celeste Trevelyan: 21 - 24  
> Velwynne Lavellan: 25 - 28
> 
> I'll post this at the beginning of each chapter for easy reference, and the OC's name will be listed in their relevant chapters as well!

His hair always drew her attention first in the mornings - the way it shone, almost like a halo, when the sunlight slipped through the crack in the opening of their tent. The way it fell down over his cheeks in golden tousles, across his collarbones, waving and curling gently. Dawn wiggled her arm carefully from beneath his, twirling a finger around one of the curled locks against his neck. Anders stirred slightly, and Dawn stifled a chuckle at the sleepy little sounds that he made as he pulled her closer against his chest. Her legs were too tangled with his to give her much leverage to move upwards, but she just managed to press a kiss to his nose, then his lips, slightly parted as he slept. The kisses seemed to spur him awake, finally, as a hand snaked up her spine to gently hold her against him. His lips moved gently against hers, and she felt him smile sleepily against her. His eyes slowly cracked open, and he peeked out at her from beneath long lashes.

"G'morning," Anders mumbled quietly, the words still muffled against Dawn's lips. She smiled and hummed in response, giving him one more gentle kiss before tucking her head beneath his chin. His warm, calloused hands stroked softly up and down her spine, lulling Dawn back towards the Fade.

"Good morning yourself," she murmured, mimicking his ministrations. Over his bared shoulder, the sunlight streamed into the tent much brighter now, indicating that the day has begun for the rest of Thedas. But for just a few more moments, just for the two of them, the start of a new day could wait. The slow rise and fall of Anders' chest, his deep and relaxed breathing, the tiniest little smile he always wore when they slept curled up like this, they were the only escape that Dawn could get from the stress of their daily lives anymore. Constantly being on the run, avoiding towns as much as they could, spending their days outrunning bandits and guardsmen on the road to freedom.

They hadn't quite decided, yet, where they were running to. The only thing that either of them knew was that they were running together, and that they needed to be moving in the opposite direction of Kirkwall. It had only been six months since they'd had to flee, and in that time they'd covered countless miles in order to keep a safe distance from the countless people who were certainly hunting them now. There was so very little time these days to just relax like this, so they'd tried to take every opportunity they had to just drink in the fact that the other person was there, their warmth was real, they were both still alive and everything was okay, just for those few moments.

But Dawn knew, as well as Anders did, that they couldn't stay in one place for too long. They had to get moving, soon,. Anders grumbled as Dawn shifted to sit up, the blankets pooling at her waist. His hand fell to her waist, grasping lightly for her curves before her hand covered his and their fingers intertwined.

"We should get moving," Dawn said quietly, sadly. Wishing they could just stay in this tent forever, pretending that no one was out to kill the both of them for the things that they had done. Pretending that everything was okay, here in their own little world. Anders sighed in acknowledgement and sat up beside her, kissing her shoulder before turning to fumble blindly for his tunic. He pulled it over his head, tossed the blankets back completely, and found his trousers before pulling them on. Dawn watched him work, appreciative of the pull of muscles in his shoulders and his arms as he set about folding the blankets. Dawn found her own tunic and leggings and got dressed before strapping on her various bits of armor. She stepped outside into the morning light, stretching the sleep from her limbs. The door of the tent rustled, and then Anders was behind her, pressing a kiss to the nape of her neck.

"Help me take the tent down?" he said gently, and she turned to give him a quick peck on the cheek before moving to untie the posts of the shelter. They made quick work of it, and within the hour they had completely packed up their small camp. The pit where their fire had been was covered, the remains of the fish they'd caught for last night's dinner buried. As Dawn finished tying the blankets onto her pack, Anders pressed a handful of bluish berries into her palm. She smiled and downed them all at once before picking up her staff and nodded towards him.

"Ready to go!" she said cheerily, reaching her hand out to him. He laced her fingers with his and they began to head out, but a raucous caw echoed through the clearing. Dawn looked up to see a massive black bird descending towards them, and she put up an arm in defense. But it landed gently, its talons finding purchase in the mail of her armor. Its eyes were unsettling, too red to be normal, and it looked haggard enough that it must have flown a long way to find them. Attached to its leg was a furled piece of thick, expensive paper. Dawn reached for it, confused, and the bird stood perfectly still while she untied the twine that kept the paper scrolled up. The raven flew away as soon as she'd opened the message, cawing until it was no longer visible in the sky.

"What does it say?" Anders said, stepping up to read over Dawn's shoulder. She scanned the letter quickly, the familiar handwriting making her feel all of a sudden very at home. But the contents of the letter made her fingers tremble, her heart turn to ice.

"It's from Varric," Dawn whispered, passing the letter to Anders without meeting his eyes. "He needs me. They need me."

"Who's they?"

"The Inquisition."


	20. Dawn Hawke - Years Later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's the order of how these will be posted here, most likely:
> 
> Posey Shepard: Chapters 1 - 4  
> Wren Cousland: 5 - 8  
> Oriana Mahariel: 9 - 12  
> Anya Grace Hawke: 13 - 16  
> Dawn Hawke: 17 - 20  
> Celeste Trevelyan: 21 - 24  
> Velwynne Lavellan: 25 - 28
> 
> I'll post this at the beginning of each chapter for easy reference, and the OC's name will be listed in their relevant chapters as well!

They still didn't use their real names when they stopped in these small villages, taking any opportunity they could to reduce their risk of being found, even after all these years on the run. Anders went by William now, something innocuous enough that, even if someone were to come looking for them here, the name wouldn't be much help at all. Dawn had chosen to simply go by her little-known middle name, Violet.

William and Violet were happy, even hiding their identities every day. In the most recent little nameless village they'd stopped in, there'd been an unused building that just perfectly suited their needs. They'd found the most authoritative villager they could, asked his permission to use the building as a clinic, and then set up shop later that evening. By the next day, they were treating people left and right. Anything from minor sunburns to broken wrists, to even helping bring a few children into the world, they were there to help. The villagers didn't question their use of magic, especially when William and Violet would brush away any attempts to pay them. Sometimes they would accept gifts of warm food or a hand-sewn blanket, but never anything monetary.

Living as healers in a place too small to have a name had its drawbacks, certainly. But here, no one recognized them from a poster after their arrest, no one  pointed and whispered behind her back when she walked through the dirt streets with her staff slung easily across her back. There were no templars here. It was a rather perfect place, actually, if Dawn thought about it for a moment. Of course they would have to move on eventually - that would be their life forevermore, nomadic wanderings every few months to avoid being discovered by authorities on their trail. But for now, this was a place where they could help people who truly needed it, with no fear of immediate capture looming over their heads. A place where they could sit by a warm fire every night, wrapped in each others' arms and whispering quietly of the child that Dawn was carrying now. A place where they could certainly stay long enough for her to have the child, now that she was due within a couple of months.

The whole village was excited for them, mothers and children and fragile old women always fawning over her belly when they came in for a coughing potion or a salve for a rash. But Anders was the most excited of them all, spending hours each night talking about anything and everything to his unborn child. Dawn would chuckle when the baby kicked at the sound of his voice.

No matter how often they had to move, how far they had to go, they knew that they would have each other. And now, they would have a child. Their child, their flesh and blood. They had already decided the names - Bethany for a girl, Malcolm for a boy. Dawn had initially protested against using two names from her own family, wanting it to be fair for Anders as well. But he had waved her off, even as he kissed her belly and murmured against it, "Boy or girl, we will name our child after a powerful, incredibly talented mage, one who was brave and pure and kind in all things."

Three months later, Anders wrapped his newborn child in a blanket that one of the older village women had sewn for them, and passed the babe gently to Dawn. "Malcolm," she whispered, choking on joyful tears as she stroked a thumb over the baby's cheek. Anders kissed the top of the child's head and pulled Dawn in close, his heart full to bursting with the life he had now. No matter what he had done in the past, no matter the mistakes he had made, he must have done something right to deserve something like this. As he stared down at his child, sleeping in the arms of the most beautiful, compassionate, brilliant woman he'd ever laid eyes on, he was finally content.


	21. Celeste Trevelyan: Introductions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the order of how these will be posted here, most likely:
> 
> Posey Shepard: Chapters 1 - 4  
> Wren Cousland: 5 - 8  
> Oriana Mahariel: 9 - 12  
> Anya Grace Hawke: 13 - 16  
> Dawn Hawke: 17 - 20  
> Celeste Trevelyan: 21 - 24  
> Velwynne Lavellan: 25 - 28
> 
> I'll post this at the beginning of each chapter for easy reference, and the OC's name will be listed in their relevant chapters as well!

**Celeste Rose Trevelyan**

Celeste Rose is the eldest of the three daughters of Canton and Danielle Trevelyan. When it was made clear that there were to be no more children after the youngest, Selena, Celeste was declared as the family heir. To prepare for this, they immediately began primping her for quiet, respectable life as the future wife of a Bann or other highly-respected noble. However, when she came into her magic at the relatively late age of 12, she was immediately sent to the Circle of Magi at Ostwick, leaving Aurora, the middle of the daughters, to take over the responsibilities of heir (a prospect she was not at all pleased with). Celeste considered herself lucky to have ended up at Ostwick, rather than another, more strict Circle - she was allowed semi-frequent visitations by the Trevelyan family, though only her mother and Selena ever came to visit. She was taught to harness her powerful elemental magic with ease and grace, becoming one of the most promising young apprentices in her group. After passing her Harrowing, she frequently aided in teaching the younger mages the basics, and found great joy in comforting and caring for the youngest children who were brought to the Circle.

Even though Ostwick was one of the more lax Circles, the Templars there still wielded their dominance over the mages. A tight watch was kept over every spell cast, every book read, every incantation muttered. Celeste was always made nervous by confrontation, and so quickly learned that a level head and a quiet disposition were the easiest ways to make it through. Despite her gentility, she has no patience for stupidity or inane questions, and will not hesitate to correct a misspoken fact or cut off someone who has exceeded her level of tolerance.

When she was originally declared the heir to the Trevelyan fortune, it was made clear that she would have no choice in love or marriage. Thus, she spent what little free time she had daydreaming about golden knights in shining armor, whisking her away from her noble duties to some exotic land across the seas. Lo and behold, the moment she laid eyes on Cullen, she knew that she was done for, and that her heart would beat only for him from that day forward. Realizing that she admired him so did not make her any less awkward when it came to romance, however. Lucky for her, he seemed to stumble over words and new situations just as often as she did when they found themselves inadvertently flirting, and thus they discovered that they were intrinsically perfect for each other. 

Being with the Inquisition brought out a mischievous side that she'd never known before, especially when she began to befriend Sera. Her usually serious nature made it all the more unexpected that she was often the culprit behind major pranks, especially those that would drive Cullen mad for days before he discovered who had committed the deed.

Celeste always tries to see the positive in her situation, and cited the wide and varied travels of the Inquisition as one of her favorite things about it. Especially when travelling with her much-loved Orlesian courser, Speckles.

Any questions that you may have about Celeste's background, personality, quirks, or even minor details are more than welcome (and most appreciated)!!


	22. Celeste Trevelyan: Childhood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's the order of how these will be posted here, most likely:
> 
> Posey Shepard: Chapters 1 - 4  
> Wren Cousland: 5 - 8  
> Oriana Mahariel: 9 - 12  
> Anya Grace Hawke: 13 - 16  
> Dawn Hawke: 17 - 20  
> Celeste Trevelyan: 21 - 24  
> Velwynne Lavellan: 25 - 28
> 
> I'll post this at the beginning of each chapter for easy reference, and the OC's name will be listed in their relevant chapters as well!

_A moment from Celeste Trevelyan's childhood..._

The hay tickled her nose, and it took everything she had to stifle a sneeze. Celeste and her sisters were doing their best to remain completely quiet, peering down from the loft of the stables into the biggest stall. The newest foal, born just hours ago, had finally figured out the idea of standing up on its spindly legs, and had since been nursing. With every flick of its downy tail and relaxed nickering of the mare, the girls cooed and sighed quietly.

Selena, a tiny little thing of only six years old, was the first to break the peaceful silence by whispering to her sisters.

"What are we gonna name it?"

Aurora and Celeste both just stared back at her, not having planned that far. It had been all rushing to the barn, climbing up the ladders in their expensive silk dresses, trying so hard to contain the squeals of delight upon sight of the tiny little foal since they'd overheard the stable attendant telling Mother that the foal was finally here and perfectly healthy.

"Any ideas?" Celeste murmured, glancing back at the foal. It seemed, right now, to be mostly dark grey, with a smattering of black markings and dots down the curve of its spine and over its rear. Aurora seemed to be deep in thought for a moment, ever the serious child, and then said in a matter-of-fact tone,

"We'll name it Pepper. It's grey and black, so it makes perfect sense."

Selena groaned, too loudly, and Aurora quickly put a hand over her mouth to shush her. The youngest girl's eyes narrowed as she smacked Aurora's hand away. "Pepper is a stupid name. Let's name it Cousland."

This time, it was Celeste's turn to roll her eyes at the suggestion. "Selena, you can't name everything after the Hero of Ferelden. You've already got six dolls _and_ a kitten named after her, let's do something else."

Aurora sighed. "Well what's your idea, then?"

The eldest of the daughters peered down into the stall, studying the patterns of the foal's markings.

"Speckles. I like Speckles."

Instantly, Aurora and Selena put their hands over their mouths to stifle the laughter bubbling up from their chests. Aurora still made a sputtering noise as she muttered, "That's the dumbest name I've ever heard!"

"It's not dumb," Celeste retaliated, eyebrows furrowing. "She's got speckles all over her back, it fits her just fine."

"Pepper describes it well too, and sounds way better than something stupid like Speckles."

"It's not stupid!" Celeste was growing more and more agitated with her sisters. "Besides, Aurora, you got to name the last one so it's not your turn!"

"You give up your turn if you can't think of a name that isn't awful." For a nine-year-old, Aurora had already developed a vicious manner of speech, an ability to verbally jab right where it hurt the most. "Maybe just write down some names later, that way when the next foal comes you can maybe give a decent idea."

"It's a good idea!" Celeste cried, surely far too loud, but she didn't care at this point. She felt strange, like her chest was on fire. "It's my turn, and Speckles is a good name! Don’t be so mean, Aurora!"

"I'm not being mean, it's just a stupid name!"

 _"It's not stupid!"_ Without warning, her fingers burned, and all of a sudden there was a bolt of lightning arcing through the air. All three girls screamed and scrambled away from the electricity, taking cover behind various stacks of hay. After a few moments, they each peeked out to make sure the coast was clear.

Celeste had to stifle a laugh when she got a good look at her sisters' hair. It had frizzed out significantly, adding to the already-voluminous mass of curls that they had all inherited from their mother. Aurora and Selena both looked horrified, but Celeste felt somehow relieved, like the lightning had just zapped away the anger that had been boiling up for a few minutes now.

"Wh-what was that?" Selena whimpered, her lower lip trembling as she stared at Celeste's hand. Confused, Celeste looked down, and nearly cried out when she realized that her hands were both enveloped in a cage of tiny arcs of lightning, threatening to jump out again at any moment.

"I'm telling Mom!" And just like that, Aurora had scrambled out of the loft, darting inside with Selena close on her heels. Celeste stayed where she was, staring at her fingertips as they danced with crackling electricity.

She didn't know how long she'd been sitting in the loft - it could've been ten minutes or ten hours, experimenting with how far she could make the lightning jump, before her father's voice rang out from below. Celeste leaned over the edge of the loft and grinned down at him, but the smile faded as soon as she saw his face. He looked furious, tired, terrified even. Her mother stood behind him, one hand gripping his upper arm fiercely, eyes bloodshot and cheeks streaked with tears, Selena and Aurora clinging timidly to her skirts.

Outside the barn, she could hear a clanking of metal and whinnying of horses. When her gaze flicked towards the door of the stables, her father raised a hand up towards her, his voice demanding and far too calm for her liking.

"Come down here, Celeste."

She descended the ladder carefully, brushing the hay from her hair and her dress before stepping towards her father. In an instant, her mother was down on her knees, even in the dust of the stables, pulling Celeste close to her chest and whispering unintelligible reassurances and 'I love you so, so much' and 'I'm sorry, baby girl,' over and over again in her ear.

"Father?" Celeste said quietly, feeling the air leave her lungs. "Father, what's going on?"

The stable door opened, her mother pressed a kiss to her cheek, and suddenly she was being swept up in the arms of someone big and tall and very strong. She let out a shriek of surprise as she felt herself lifted even further, then she realized that she was on a horse. One that certainly did not belong to the Trevelyans, if the red-embroidered sword insignia was any indicator.

Her father's eyes were like stone now, hardened to the pleas that Lady Trevelyan was repeating. "Please, please Canton, don't do this, she's just a little girl _, that's our baby how could you be doing this_ -"

She was silenced when one of his hands fell around her waist, pulling her close to his side as the other hand gently tilted her chin to look up at him. "Dani, you know this is what's right. This is what's best for her."

Celeste's mother shook her head away from his grasp, kneeling in the dirt once again and pulling Selena and Aurora close as she began to sob. The two girls looked frightened as well, but more confused than anything as their father looked up at Celeste again. "I'm sorry, Celeste. But the Templars will help you. You'll be safe in the Circle."

The man who had picked her up earlier was now sitting in the saddle in front of her. He silently beckoned for her to wrap her arms around his armored waist as best she could. When she was settled, the horse was spurred into motion, and her life as a Circle mage began.

 

Years later, Horsemaster Dennet would be horrified to find out that one of his most prized mounts, an Orlesian Charger that he'd raised from birth and trained to utmost perfection, had been dubbed _Speckles_ by Celeste Trevelyan, the Lady Inquisitor and the Herald of Andraste.


	23. Celeste Trevelyan: Romance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's the order of how these will be posted here, most likely:
> 
> Posey Shepard: Chapters 1 - 4  
> Wren Cousland: 5 - 8  
> Oriana Mahariel: 9 - 12  
> Anya Grace Hawke: 13 - 16  
> Dawn Hawke: 17 - 20  
> Celeste Trevelyan: 21 - 24  
> Velwynne Lavellan: 25 - 28
> 
> I'll post this at the beginning of each chapter for easy reference, and the OC's name will be listed in their relevant chapters as well!

Fire. Her world was consumed by green fire, blinding and hot and setting her blood boiling. Everything burned, and everything hurt as she stumbled back into the Crossroads. The others were waiting, right where she'd left them, their weapons held aloft until they realized that she was alone coming through the eluvian. Celeste looked up at Bull, her eyes pleading.

"Please, Bull, I can't do this," she gasped, her voice raw from screaming. He didn't seem to catch her meaning at first, until she let out another wail and collapsed to her knees, holding her arm which looked as though it could shatter with green light at any moment. Cassandra looked horrified, frozen and unsure of what to do. Dorian was the first to rush to her side, supporting her weight as she shuddered and grew limp. "Make it stop," came out as a whimper, a plea. Dorian cradled her head in his lap, one hand moving frantically over here to see if there was anything he could do to ease her pain.

Bull finally seemed to understand what she needed, and his face fell grim as he knelt at her side.

"Hold her down, Cassandra," he said quietly, putting one of his big, warm hands on Celeste's shoulder and looking her in the eyes. "It'll be over in a minute, Boss. Take a deep breath."

Cassandra was pressing her full weight against Celeste's shoulders then, and Celeste caught the glint of the sun on the dagger that Bull pulled from his boot. She closed her eyes, took in a deep, shaky inhale, and then screamed as the entire world went black.

* * *

She awoke to feeling warmth and softness, breathing in air much more familiar than whatever she had breathed last. The roof of her quarters in Skyhold were a welcome sight as she stared upwards. The blankets covering her were the same she'd had for years now, the pillow beneath her head the same firmness as her favorite one.

So why did something not feel right?

As she turned her head to one side, she realized what it was. She was on Cullen's side of the bed. Odd as it was, she took it in stride, and turned the other way. She was surprised to see Cullen himself sitting there, nodded off in a chair that he'd pulled up to the side of the bed. His armor had been discarded, and he wore a simple tunic and breeches. Even his sword was laid aside beneath his chair.

 _He looks so peaceful in sleep,_ she thought to herself. _He should be given the chance to relax like this more often._

Although, he would be much more relaxed if he were snuggled up next to her, of that she was sure.

She reached out to rouse him from his sleep, but then she realized what was _really_ wrong.

Her arm. _Her hand_. She couldn't reach Cullen, couldn't brush her fingers against his arm gently to wake him up, because there was nothing but empty space beyond the stump of her elbow. Her heart leapt into her throat, her stomach twisted, her stump flailed uselessly as she sat up in the bed and let out a harsh keening cry.

Cullen was awake in an instant, his eyes finding hers. When molten amber met pale violet, she knew then from the red in his eyes that he hadn't been sleeping so well as it had seemed a moment ago. He jumped from the chair and was at her side in a moment, sitting on the edge of the bed and cupping her horrified face between his warm, calloused hands.

"Shh, my love, you're all right," he whispered, "You're safe."

"C-Cullen, what -"

"Celeste, be still," Cullen cut her off gently, his brows furrowed sadly. "Do you remember what happened? With Solas?"

She did remember. She remembered the pain, and her blood on fire, and the back of Solas's cloak as it swished through the eluvian. And all the rage came rushing back. Her fist, the only one she had now, clenched in fury.

"Solas." The name was gritted through her teeth, growled like a curse. Cullen nodded, slowly, trying to keep a neutral expression and failing miserably. "That bastard's going to pay. He'll pay for every life. Every damn one."

"I know, my love," Cullen murmured, taking her right hand in one of his. "But you need to rest, now. You've... been through a lot."

Celeste's gaze dropped to the blanket, where she was used to seeing two hands resting in her lap. Now there was only one, entangled with Cullen's own hand, and it was suddenly all very overwhelming.

"My hand is gone," she whispered, horrified. "Maker, I won't even be able to fight anymore. I'm useless now."

"Shh, hey now," Cullen reassured her. "Don't you worry about fighting right now. There's a lot to arrange. We'll get you better first, healed up. We'll find a way to work through this. Together," he ended on a whisper, brushing a kiss across her knuckles. "But you have to be positive, love."

"Positive? How can I be positive about _this_ , Cullen?" She was bristled in an instant, on the defensive. He sighed and stood up, rubbing a hand against the back of his neck, and moving to the other side of the bed. The mattress shifted beneath him as he crawled up to her side, his arm going around her shoulders and drawing her close. He was silent for a while, just breathing in the scent of her hair.

Celeste grew impatient. "Please," she muttered, her voice cracking on withheld tears. "How can _any_ of this be good, Cullen? The world is still falling to pieces around me, and now there's nothing I have to fight it. At least with Corypheus I had the Anchor, but Solas, he took that from me too. I have nothing left. How do we fight an old friend, who knows every move we might make? Who has taken what little power that I had?"

He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head, taking in a deep breath. "I don't know how to answer that question, my love. But you are not without power, don't you ever doubt that." His hand tilted her chin up to look at him, and his honey eyes were full of sincerity. "The Anchor was powerful because _you_ were powerful. You are still just as strong, just as brave. Just as magnificent as you always have been. Your hand does not change that, and it never will."

"He... Cullen, he took my wedding ring." Celeste couldn't help but shudder as her tears worked their way to the surface, spilling out over her cheeks. Cullen brushed them away as they came, until finally she was sobbing loudly against his shirt, her good hand clinging to his tunic. He held her close, holding back worried tears of his own as her body racked with sobs, shaking long into the evening. Every so often, he would offer her a glass of water and a few crackers that had been left on her bedside table, encouraging her to eat at least something. Then the crying would return, and he would return to stroking her hair gently and kissing her forehead every so often.

As the sun set behind the mountains outside of her balcony, Celeste finally found that she did not have the strength to cry anymore. There were no more tears left to give for today. Cullen took this for what it was, and didn't say a word as he climbed under the covers with her, laid down, and curled Celeste close against him. His warmth, his mere presence, was enough to soothe Celeste for the moment, and she slowly drifted off until she was snoring quietly against his chest.


	24. Celeste Trevelyan - Years Later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's the order of how these will be posted here, most likely:
> 
> Posey Shepard: Chapters 1 - 4  
> Wren Cousland: 5 - 8  
> Oriana Mahariel: 9 - 12  
> Anya Grace Hawke: 13 - 16  
> Dawn Hawke: 17 - 20  
> Celeste Trevelyan: 21 - 24  
> Velwynne Lavellan: 25 - 28
> 
> I'll post this at the beginning of each chapter for easy reference, and the OC's name will be listed in their relevant chapters as well!

"Maker's breath," Cullen choked out as he kneeled beside the bed. Celeste turned her head, slowly, her eyes half-lidded with exhaustion but still so full of joy. She gave him a weak smile and let her eyes fall closed, leaning back against the pillows. The little bundle of blankets nestled in her arm made a noise then, and Cullen leapt to his feet, looking for any signs of trouble.

Celeste chuckled quietly, her eyes still closed. "Calm down, Cullen, he's fine."

"Sorry," he half-laughed, choosing to sit now on the edge of the bed so he could see his son better. Only the boy's tiny, pink face was visible amongst the blankets. But that little face was perfect, and Cullen knew that he was already lost in his love for this child. As he brushed a thumb over the baby's forehead, he murmured quietly to his wife, "What should we name him?"

She was more alert then, pale violet eyes meeting his own in the dim morning light of their cabin. "Well, we had decided that _you_ would name the baby if it was a boy. I had assumed that meant you would have ideas prepared...."

"I, uh..." He didn't have anything prepared. He'd actually been so swept up in Celeste's dreams of a little girl, prancing around in dresses and soft curls falling down her back, that he hadn't even considered the fact that they might have a boy. And now here they were, and Cullen had _no idea_ what to name their child.

"You don't have anything, do you?" There was a tiny smirk on Celeste's lips. She'd already considered this possibility, and been prepared for it. She used her feet to push herself upwards a little more, being careful not to shift the baby too much. "What do you think of Stanton? He does rather look like you, for now at least."

Cullen nodded, grinning. "Stanton, then."

"And what about his middle name?"

"Hmm, that will be more difficult." They sat in silence for a while, pondering, until Celeste perked up a bit and smiled.

"We could always use Dorian."

Cullen sputtered a bit and shook his head. "My love, we absolutely cannot choose anyone of those who were in your inner circle. I've heard far too many of them saying absolutely horrible things that will always be burned into my memory. And besides, could you imagine Varric, Bull, or Dorian if we told them we'd named the child after them? They'd lose their minds with pride. No one would ever hear the end of it."

"Perhaps Rylen," she said quietly. "He's a good man, right?"

That gave Cullen pause, recalling the hard-working soldier. "True, he was a great deal of help in the Inquisition. And I'm sure he'd be massively surprised, if we did name the child after him."

"Better Rylen than Jim, right?" Celeste snickered as Cullen turned a vibrant shade of red. But then the baby squirmed again, letting out a little cry. Cullen looked down at the baby and stroked his cheek gently, hushing him half-heartedly. Celeste moved her arm, offering the child to Cullen. He grinned and carefully folded his hands beneath the baby and lifted him, cradling him close to his chest.

"Stanton Rylen Rutherford," he murmured, kissing the babe's forehead. "Maker's breath, I have a son. This is our son, Celeste."

"I'm well aware," she replied with an eye roll, settling back down into a lying position. Cullen stood, still holding Stanton close, and walked around to the other side of the bed, scooting in and leaning up against the headboard. Within a few minutes, Celeste was sleeping soundly, her chest rising and falling with slow, even breaths. Cullen stared down at his son, still in total awe that he and Celeste had created this tiny living thing.

"Our son," he whispered again, feeling tears smart at the corners of his eyes. "Our little lion."


	25. Velwynne Lavellan: Introductions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the order of how these will be posted here, most likely:
> 
> Posey Shepard: Chapters 1 - 4  
> Wren Cousland: 5 - 8  
> Oriana Mahariel: 9 - 12  
> Anya Grace Hawke: 13 - 16  
> Dawn Hawke: 17 - 20  
> Celeste Trevelyan: 21 - 24  
> Velwynne Lavellan: 25 - 28
> 
> I'll post this at the beginning of each chapter for easy reference, and the OC's name will be listed in their relevant chapters as well!

**Velwynne Lavellan**

Raised in the thick forests of the Free Marches, Velwynne learned from a young age to adapt to her surroundings, pay sharp attention to everything around her, and to take great pride in her Dalish heritage. Her magic manifested early, at age 6, but because there were so few mages in the Lavellan clan at the time, she was allowed to remain. When her magical training first began, there was already a First to the Keeper, so Velwynne was not given any false hope that she would ever ascend to such a position. However, following a tragic accident wherein the clan's Keeper was killed, the position of First to the Keeper became available once again, and all the young ones of the clan were put through rigorous testing to determine who would bear the title. Velwynne came out on top, much to the shock and pride of her father, Lemael, one of the clan's most accomplished hunters. She took the vallaslin of Sylaise, to reflect her caring and motherly nature, as well as her newly-achieved position.

She had been the First for going on ten years before she was sent to the Conclave at age 25 a as a spy, to gather information that may have been useful for the clan. The events that transpired there tore her away from her clan and from her father, a fact which she bitterly resented until the town of Haven was destroyed. It was there that she realized that her role in the grand scheme of things was much bigger than she had initially imagined, and that she was indeed the only hope that remained to the people of Thedas.

Velwynne is exceedingly intelligent, having studied as much of Dalish culture as she could get her hands on. The libraries of Skyhold quickly became her favorite place, where she and Dorian would read side by side for hours on end in companionable silence. Their equally sarcastic personalities matched well with each other, and they quickly became fast friends, much to the chagrin of Mother Giselle.

Solas, at first, was a welcome surprise. They would speak endlessly of his journeys in the Fade, tips and tricks for spells, and methods of healing that Velwynne had never even heard of. He felt drawn to her for her determination, and her respect for life that extended to all creatures, however small. On one of their travels through the Hinterlands, a fennec fox was accidentally caught in the midst of a short battle with some roaming bandits. Having been struck quite forcefully with one of Velwynne's fire spells, the rest of the party intended to put it out of its misery. Velwynne refused to give up on the creature, begging Solas to help her heal the little fox. They did so, and Velwynne carried the tiny creature all the way back to Skyhold, where it recovered and from then on could be found hovering around her ankles. She named the fennec Da'Assan, little arrow, for his uncanny ability to lead the party straight into safe places that would be suitable for camps.

As much as Velwynne enjoyed Solas's company, when they inevitably began moving discussions towards the Dalish people, she quickly found his superior attitude and lack of identification with her people to be infuriating. Dorian was forced to sit through hours of listening to them argue in the rotunda below, though he made many a comment to Velwynne about the radiating romantic tension that still permeated their every argument. Velwynne brushed these comments aside at first, but soon found herself more and more attracted to Solas, even as she studied more and more of the ideas that he put forth and realized that perhaps there was more to her people than she'd ever guessed. They still often engaged in heated debates, but as time moved on they would usually end their arguments with a heated kiss, while Dorian smirked and shook his head above.

Even though Solas changed the way she saw some aspects of her people, Velwynne still did everything in her power as Inquisitor to give aid to the elves. If there was an option to benefit the Dalish, she would take it without question, often much to the disapproval of her advisors.

Any questions that you may have about Velwynne's background, personality, quirks, or even minor details are more than welcome (and most appreciated)!!


	26. Velwynne Lavellan: Childhood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's the order of how these will be posted here, most likely:
> 
> Posey Shepard: Chapters 1 - 4  
> Wren Cousland: 5 - 8  
> Oriana Mahariel: 9 - 12  
> Anya Grace Hawke: 13 - 16  
> Dawn Hawke: 17 - 20  
> Celeste Trevelyan: 21 - 24  
> Velwynne Lavellan: 25 - 28
> 
> I'll post this at the beginning of each chapter for easy reference, and the OC's name will be listed in their relevant chapters as well!

_A moment from Velwynne Lavellan’s childhood..._

Velwynne looked up when the curtain of the aravel swung open, letting in enough sunlight to momentarily blind her. She snorted and covered her eyes, grumbling, closing her book and setting it gently to the side of her pillow on the floor.

When her eyes readjusted, it was her father standing in the doorway, nearly breathless with excitement. "Keeper Deshanna is calling a meeting," he gasped, reaching a hand down to help Velwynne up from the floor. "She says she needs everyone present."

Velwynne's eyes narrowed as she pondered why her father would be so excited. "What's got you so worked up, Father? What's going on?"

"Dear one," he said quietly, his hands cupping her cheeks. "She's chosen her First."

Ice worked its way through her veins, her stomach flipped, and she let out a shocked, "Oh." She'd had no idea it would be so soon, now. The five candidates had only been studying for two years, and Velwynne had suspected at least four years of training before Deshanna would even begin to hint at choosing a First. But now it was happening, and Velwynne wasn't sure she wanted to hear the decision.

She didn't have much choice at this point, as her father was nearly dragging her out of the aravel. She grabbed her staff at the last moment, swung it over her back, and tucked a few strands of loose silvery-white hair behind her ears. It was a short walk to the center of the caravan, but by the time they reached the gathering her palms were sweating uncontrollably and she thought she could feel her heartbeat in her fingertips. Everyone else was already there, save for the healers who were tending to a group of hunters who had narrowly escaped a run-in with some human bandits a few days ago.

Keeper Deshanna stood at the front of the clan, surveying the faces before her carefully. She raised a hand, slowly, to quiet the crowd. When silence had fallen, she cleared her throat delicately and gestured for everyone to take a seat on the lush grass beneath their feet. Velwynne's father took her hand in both of his as they sat, squeezing it gently. "No matter what happens," he whispered, "I am so proud of the woman you are becoming. I will always be proud of you."

The tears that sprang up in her eyes surprised her - she'd always been one to control her emotions well, but her father was the one weak point in her armor. If he heard the crack in her voice as she replied, "Thank you," he didn't say anything, for which Velwynne was grateful.

Deshanna's fingers tapped a rhythm out against her staff as she paused again, staring around the group. The silence in the clan was deafening, everyone breathless to hear the decision. Velwynne could see Solenn and Harras at the front of the group, both trembling just slightly. They'd been the favorites for a long time now, having the best healing skills of all the candidates and a knack for solving problems. Velwynne was more the studious sort - her magic was strong, certainly, but more based in fire and lightning than a typical First. She'd pored through books tirelessly, studied the artifacts that were in her clan's possession, taken in knowledge at every possible chance. Still, the magic seemed to be the most important factor  in Deshanna's decision. Her chances weren't great, she knew that. But the more she had daydreamed about being a Keeper, leading the Lavellan clan through the wilderness of the Free Marches and beyond, preserving the ways of the Dalish as long as her life allowed, the more she knew that this was all she wanted. The problem was, that's what they _all_ wanted now. There were five candidates, all of them well-qualified, and Velwynne just wasn't sure where she fell amongst them in terms of ranking.

"The time has come," the Keeper's voice rang out across the clearing. "I have carefully watched those who expressed the potential to one day take the place of Keeper of this clan. They have worked endlessly, that they may be the best resource possible for our People. But only one of you can be the First. Those of you whom I have not chosen, may remain as my Seconds, for we must always be prepared should something happen. Now, I'm sure you're all very anxious, so I'll go ahead and announce this."

Velwynne sucked in a quick breath, fingers squeezing her father's hands as tight as she could.

"As my First, I have chosen Velwynne, daughter of Lemael."

She would have remained there, frozen for an eternity in shock, had her father not stood up, pulled her in close for a crushing hug, and then gently pushed her towards the front of the clan to stand by the Keeper's side. Deshanna put a gentle hand on her shoulder with a beaming smile, and the clan erupted into cheers. Velwynne's smile fell just a little when she noticed Solenn sobbing into Harras's shoulder as he comforted her, both of them understandably devastated. But then a fresh wave of celebration swept through the clan, and her heart was light, and her father's cheeks had tears streaking down them with the biggest grin she'd ever seen on his weary face.

 _She'd done it._ She was the First of Clan Lavellan, and she knew, she just _knew_ that one day, somehow, she was going to do incredible things for her clan and for the Dalish people.


	27. Velwynne Lavellan: Romance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's the order of how these will be posted here, most likely:
> 
> Posey Shepard: Chapters 1 - 4  
> Wren Cousland: 5 - 8  
> Oriana Mahariel: 9 - 12  
> Anya Grace Hawke: 13 - 16  
> Dawn Hawke: 17 - 20  
> Celeste Trevelyan: 21 - 24  
> Velwynne Lavellan: 25 - 28
> 
> I'll post this at the beginning of each chapter for easy reference, and the OC's name will be listed in their relevant chapters as well!

_A romantic moment between Velwynne Lavellan and Solas..._

After their kiss in the Fade, Velwynne found that she couldn't keep her mind off of Solas. She was haunted by the feel of his arms around her waist, his cool, slender hand tangling into her snowy white braids as their lips met.

She was not known to be a highly emotional person. Always having been level-headed and logical, just like her father, this sudden onslaught of feelings towards Solas was unfamiliar. Not unwelcome, but certainly unfamiliar. She'd tried so very hard to keep her furtive glances to a minimum when he was traveling with her now, but even Cassandra had begun to notice that something was going on between them. It was getting more and more difficult to keep her distance, but Solas seemed very good at avoiding her sometimes. She would go to talk and he would be so professional, so untoward, that sometimes she began to wonder if she hadn't imagined the whole thing. He'd admitted to it, sure, the first time she'd spoken to him after the _Fade-tongue incident_. But since then, he'd been so careful with her, so careful not to say anything that could be slightly construed as flirting.

It was driving Velwynne crazy.

Every time she slept, she half-expected to bump into him roaming the Fade. In fact, she rather wanted to find him there, because perhaps he'd be more like the flirtatious smooth-talker she'd been so used to before. But he never seemed to show up in her dreams, to her disappointment.

Then one day, while they'd been out in the Emerald Graves, the party had run into a pack of giants.

A fucking _pack_ of them. When Velwynne fell, the last thing she'd heard was Solas frantically calling out her name, even as he stepped over her fallen form to protect her as best he could. She'd woken up back in one of their camps, everything sore and aching. Solas had been sitting at her side, reading over his notes on rift magic, and he flushed all the way to the tips of his ears when her hand had reached out and grasped his weakly. She smiled up at him, and he'd flashed a shy, relieved grin back before setting his book aside, grasping her hand between both of his, and telling her that they were headed back to Skyhold, where her massive injuries and wounds would be better treated.

That had been last week, and Velwynne hadn't seen or heard from Solas since then. She'd been confined to her quarters while she recovered from the beating she'd taken from the giants, and though most of her followers had visited at some point or other, Solas hadn't been by. Velwynne had asked after him, only through Dorian and Iron Bull of course but they had always returned with confused shrugs and shakes of their heads, indicating that Solas would not speak on the subject of why he was avoiding the Inquisitor.

Thinking about what could have gone wrong between them kept her up late at night, made her toss and turn as she considered what she would say as soon as she was allowed off of bed-rest and back into the field. One night, she finally threw back the covers, huffing against the cold in her room as she stalked across to the balcony. As she pushed the door open to the terrace, she shuddered. The moon was barely visible, just a slender crescent of light against a layer of cloudy black velvet. Ice and snow swirled into the room for a moment, brushing across Velwynne's bare feet. The cold grounded her, cleared her head from the elfroot and potions that they'd been forcing upon her for the last week. She leaned against the railing, taking slow, deep breaths of freezing mountain air.

A door slammed somewhere behind her, and her ears pricked up. Probably just Dorian again, stopping by to make sure she was sleeping all right. But his footsteps were usually weighted and detectable, clanking of his metal plates and the chains on his boots jingling. Even though she was listening as close as she could, she didn't hear any of the footsteps of whoever was now in her room. By the time she turned, the person was right behind her, and Velwynne let out a squeak of surprise.

Solas stepped backwards, hands up in surrendering manner. "Inquisitor, my apologies. I did not mean to startle you."

After a moment of gasping for breath, Velwynne let out a nervous laugh. "No, no, Solas, you're... What are you doing here?"

When he stepped further out onto the balcony to join her, she could see the lines beneath his tired, red eyes. "I must admit," he sighed quietly, folding his hands behind his back and staring out over the mountains, "I have been avoiding you."

"I'm well aware of that." Her retort had more of a bite to it than she'd intended, and she noticed the way that he visibly straightened. The next words were softer, as she stepped up to his side. "Have I done something wrong?"

"Never," he said, sounding shocked that she'd even suggest such a thing. "Vhenan, you did nothing wrong, not at all. I just... needed some time to think. About our last meeting, you know."

 _"Vhenan?"_ The corners of Velwynne's mouth quirked up a little bit, and she took a step closer towards him. "Is that what you just called me?"

His cheeks flushed pink, and he averted his eyes from hers. "Slip of the tongue, I suppose."

"Oh please, don't stop on my account," Velwynne whispered, her hand flinching towards his of its own accord. His fingers were wrapped between hers in an instant, but his brows furrowed as he pulled her in to an embrace. She murmured into his tunic, grateful of the shield against the wind that he provided. "You still haven't told me why you came up here."

"I..." He sighed and shook his head slowly, tightening his grip around her. "I just needed to make sure you were all right."

Velwynne leaned her head back to look at his face, her eyebrow cocked in confusion. "I've been all right for a week now, Solas. The healers have done well. I feel fine."

His eyes opened, his gaze so honest and vulnerable that she felt frozen to the spot. "Bad dream," he muttered quietly, drawing one of his thumbs over her eyebrow, her cheekbone, the tip of her ear. As if to make sure she was really here, and not just some figment of his imagination. "I believe that some of the less amicable spirits of the Fade have noticed my... feelings for you, and they sometimes play unkind tricks on my mind."

Velwynne wanted to poke him in the chest and make a coy comment about the fact that he was bringing _'feelings'_ into this, but she was more concerned with the redness of his eyes. He clearly hadn't slept much, and whatever sleep he may have been getting was not restful if the circles beneath his eyes were any indicators. "What kind of tricks?"

"They've seen what I've seen," he murmured after a long moment. "Your body, prone and broken on the forest floor, the pain clouding your eyes when you woke in the camp. They twist these images, make them even more terrifying. More violent. They create situations in the Fade where you did not wake. And even though I knew it was a trick of demons, I could not help but be terrified for you. So I came here, just to be sure. I am sorry if I have disturbed you, vhenan."

He looked up, his eyelashes fluttering in surprise when she pressed a kiss to his cheek. "You haven't disturbed me at all, Solas. It's... good to see you. I've sort of missed you, this past week." At that, he smiled and rested his forehead against hers.

"I have missed you too."

Velwynne couldn't stifle the yawn that escaped her just then, and Solas chuckled at the little noise she made at the end of it. She blushed, and he gently kissed her nose. "I'll be off to bed, then," he whispered against the tip of her nose, beginning to pull away. "Now that I know you're all right."

She stopped him with a hand around his wrist. "You don't have to leave."

His back was still to her, but she caught the interested twitch of his ear. "I really should go, Inquisitor."

"You'd probably sleep better here," Velwynne said quietly, biting her lip at her own forwardness. Even as he turned to face her, he was shaking his head.

"This is not a good idea." She sighed and shrugged, dropping his hand and walking back to her bed. When she'd crawled under the covers, he was still standing there, just staring at the spot where she'd been standing.

"You don't have to stay, Solas," she said quietly, her hands folding together nervously over the blankets. "I just thought it might help."

There was more silence, but finally he moved and closed the doors to the balcony, silencing the howling wind and allowing some of the warmth to return to the room. He turned towards the bed. "I suppose you are right. It... probably would help." Velwynne smiled gently, grateful for the dim candlelight of the room which hid her blushing cheeks as he carefully removed the tunic he'd been wearing, leaving his chest bare. She wanted to ask why he kept the strange necklace on, but decided to say nothing as he came to join her on the bed. He slowly peeled back the covers and slid in next to her, moving slowly in case she all of a sudden decided that she didn't want this. When he was close enough to her side, she slipped towards him and wrapped an arm around his waist. He smirked and scooted down so that his head was against a pillow, her head against his chest, and then his arms were around her, holding her close.

He began to hum, softly, something that Velwynne felt she should know but couldn't quite place. An old Dalish lullaby, she would have thought, if he hadn't already expressed his disinterest in the Dalish culture. Whatever it was, it was enough to pull her back towards sleep. And when she found herself wandering through the Fade, she was pleased to find that Solas was at her side, and he looked a thousand times better just for knowing that she was safe.


	28. Velwynne Lavellan - Years Later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's the order of how these will be posted here, most likely:
> 
> Posey Shepard: Chapters 1, 8, 15, 22  
> Wren Cousland: 2, 9, 16, 23  
> Oriana Mahariel: 3, 10, 17, 24  
> Anya Grace Hawke: 4, 11, 18, 25  
> Dawn Hawke: 5, 12, 19, 26  
> Celeste Trevelyan: 6, 13, 20, 27  
> Velwynne Lavellan: 7, 14, 21, 28
> 
> I'll post this at the beginning of each chapter for easy reference, and the OC's name will be listed in their relevant chapters as well!

She knew someone else was here. There were eyes on her back, twigs snapping in the blackness of the forest surrounding her. A barely detectable whoosh of breath, steady and slow. But every time she turned, lifting her staff to send light forth into the darkness, nothing was there. The forest would grow still again for a time, only her boots making any sound as they crushed the dead, dry leaves beneath her feet.

It was cold, colder than she had ever remembered being in the Fade. Velwynne shivered a bit and wrapped her thick cloak tighter around her arms. The Fade was usually warm and familiar, a place where she'd found solace and peace.

A place where, once, she'd been able to find _him_ with hardly any effort.

Her arm still hurt, even here. She didn't look down, knowing that the empty space beneath her elbow would only distress her further. But she knew that it was gone, and she knew that he had taken it. Not her arm - that part had been Cole, wanting to help, to ease her pain as she stumbled screaming back into the Crossroads.  Solas had taken the Anchor, her power. He'd taken her heart.

And then he'd left, promising to destroy the world and everything she'd ever loved. She'd been abandoned, left with nothing to show for her relationship with Solas besides a broken heart, an amputated arm, and a righteous fury that had kept everyone who came around Velwynne on edge for the last few weeks.

Velwynne's breath caught in her throat as she heard another crunch of leaves that had not come from her own footsteps. Closer this time than the steps she'd heard before. She whirled quickly, but by the time she could light the darkness, whatever had been there was gone.


End file.
